Between Fathers and Sons
by AJCrane
Summary: A young vigilante returns home after being wounded. While there, complications arise. A father must face the fact that his son has become a man without him. And both must face the consequences from what happened one year ago. I'm putting this a T rating on this for now. There is also a mystery that must be solved but not for the first half of this story.
1. Coming Home

A/N: This story was inspired by paganpunk2. You never know who or what will inspire you. And if another author does from something they have written, don't hesitate to ask them if you can borrow some of their material to write your own. I did, and this is the story that came out. Thanks paganpunk2. Your stories are incredible. I also combined two of my stories from Bat Shorts to form this larger story. Fired! and Gone!

/

Between Father's and Sons

By

AJ

Part 1 – Coming Home

'I've got to stop them. If they get across the river . . .' The young man leapt from his bike and up into the trees. He waited for the vehicle as it came down the road. It was now or never. Taking his grappling hook, he secured it to a branch and headed toward the river as the unmarked vehicle approached. The young man flew through the air as if he was born to it, his black and blue costume blending with the night, reminiscent of another. The yellow shining in the moonlight reminded him of his past. He spied the truck just as it reached the bridge. The door in the back of the truck flew open and a gunman fired. The young vigilante tried to avoid the shots fired in his direction remembering the words spoken to him when he was a child of ten.

"A moving target is harder to hit."

He managed to keep from being riddled from hundreds of bullets, but it only took one, and that one was not a direct hit. It ricocheted off the metal structure as the truck crossed the bridge into the city and out of his jurisdiction. The bullet lodged itself into the fleshy portion of his right hip. The young man did his best to roll with the fall, but the damage was done. He was too far from his base of operation to make it home without losing too much blood. He needed help and he knew where to get it. After all this time, he hoped that avenue wasn't forever closed to him. The young man hoped he could make it there in time, but even that was doubtful.

'I've got to make it,' he thought. Memories of his life before flashed through his mind, especially the last time they had been together. He feared the bullet had nicked an artery and he would not have the time . . . 'The time to say, I'm sorry.'

The young vigilante headed away from the city, blood running down his leg with a fever forming in his body and sweat pouring down his face. His feet carried him toward the road he remembered traveling along countless times.

'Must . . . reach . . . home.'

The sudden appearance of bright lights and screeching breaks and something very large slamming into him caused the young man to be thrown in the air and landing with a sickening thud. Despite the blow the young vigilante still managed to keep from being harmed further. Even so the young vigilante did not move, but allowed the darkness to claim him. His last thoughts were of a man from his past wishing he could tell him of the words he put in a letter a few years ago.

"I love you, too. You big dork."

Continues with Part 2 - One Year Ago: Torn Apart


	2. One Year Ago: Torn Apart

A/N: Part 2 is an expanded version of my story Fired! I changed a few things in this version to fit more in line with the story.

/

Between Father's and Sons

By

AJ

Part 2 – One Year Ago: Torn Apart

"YOU'RE FIRED DICK!"

Those words echoed in his head, words that he didn't ever expect to hear from Bruce. What's happened to him? Why has he suddenly become so cold? It seemed lately when he came home on holidays from College Bruce was treating him more like a child than when he was as a kid. Bruce kept him from being on cases, not telling him what he was doing, leaving him at the manor, just like he did when Dick was in training. Robin tried to explain that the Teen Titans took longer than anyone of them expected, but Batman didn't want to hear what he deemed as excuses.

'As if that's an excuse, it's not. If only he would have listened. He would have realized it wasn't my fault. I had just as much a valid reason as he does when he goes with the JLA.'

And Batman once again hadn't shared vital information that Robin needed to know. He would not have acted so rashly.

Robin removed the old uniform and placed it neatly on the chair in the room that he found himself in. He dressed in an old T-shirt and jeans. There was a hoody draped across another chair in the room along with a pair of sneakers. When Batman threw him out of the cave, he left with just the uniform on his back, just like he did when he was ten years old and his parents had been killed. With tears blinding his vision he didn't know where he was heading. All he knew was that he had to get out of there. Neither had noticed it had started snowing heavily again and the wind had picked up, turning it into a blizzard. If both had paid attention to the weather, Dick knew that Bruce would have sent him up to the manor instead of ordering out of the cave, but in his anger Bruce threw him out and that left Dick making a decision that probably was the wrong choice.

'I know the past two years have been tough, me going off to college, having been kidnapped twice, once by Ravek then by Ra's al Ghul and then the Titans keeping me busy as well as New Carthage . . . Why is Bruce . . . no Batman. Why is Batman questioning my commitment? I took an OATH, but . . . I'm not him. Why can't he see that? I'm not doing this out of revenge like the way he seems to be doing it lately. He'll be the first to deny it, but I know. I've seen it in his eyes. I'm doing this because he gave me a chance to find my parents killer and bring that person to justice. Well, I did that. I could have stopped then, but I didn't. I thought my parents would have wanted me to continue to do this, to do what was right. Now I don't know any more.'

Dick remembered the last time this happened. He had been nearly beaten to death by Two Face. And out of fear, fear that Batman could not protect him; Dick had been fired. Robin had been taken away from him. It hurt, it hurt so much that after his recovery because he couldn't be what he wanted to be, what he needed to be, Dick ran away. Dick wasn't Bruce's son. He was his ward. He still was his ward. Dick didn't come into his majority until he was 21 and at this point he couldn't wait.

'Well if Bruce doesn't want me in the cave, fine. I can't stay at the Manor either. I can't play the part of a spoiled playboy's son. And Hudson isn't doing me any good either. Bruce would kill me if he knew how my grades have slipped. I'm usually an A student, but this past semester I received all Bs. It's not that the course work is too difficult. On the contrary, it's just too easy and I haven't been able to pay much attention to it. I'm only doing what's required and I know it's not enough. I'm just having a hard time with being there. And now I'm having a hard time just being anywhere near Gotham City. Well he can have it. I can take my oath elsewhere.'

Though Dick knew in his heart what he just voiced was a lie. What he wanted was to go back and tell Bruce he was just as committed as he was, but he knew Bruce probably wouldn't listen. The venom in Bruce's voice proved that. Lately, he had been the one to do the apologizing, even when he wasn't in the wrong, but no more. This time Bruce had been wrong. If Batman had informed him about the situation things would be different.

Dick picked up the uniform and looked at it. They were the colors he wore in the circus. He rubbed his hand along the "R" in the black circle then promptly ripped it off. He took the cape and ripped it in two. He emptied the utility belt of its contents and tossed that in a box. Each item that he touched Dick damaged it beyond repair. Silent tears streamed down his face as his heart broke for what was lost. Ripping out the "R" felt like his heart was being ripped out, but right now it was the only thing he could think about doing, and letting Bruce know just what he had done by firing him.

Dick started to wrap up the remains of the uniform in the box containing the utility belt when he noticed a small blinking light among the contents. Dick held it up and realized it was a tracking device.

'So, Bruce is still tracking me despite the fact that he fired me. Well he won't be able to track me ever again,' Dick threw the tracking device in the box. He then wrapped everything up after placing two notes inside a boot. 'Bruce will probably throw it in the trash,' Dick thought, so he addressed the package to Alfred. Dick thought about the two notes, one for Alfred, the other for Bruce, along with the torn uniform. He knew it was vindictive, and maybe it would hurt Bruce, but Bruce had been just as vindictive in his words. And right now that's all he could think about.

The cold was biting. Dick should have kept the uniform one more day and at least waited until he could get some warmer clothes. It could have helped insulate his body. He had no choice but to take what he could from a clothing donation box outside of some chain department store before heading to a motel to change. He found an old pair of shoes, some jeans with holes, a t-shirt, and at least a jacket with a hood. He at least would blend in with some of the homeless, for that's what he was now . . . homeless. Dick stopped at the post office to drop off his package. He paid the priority mail rate so it would get there in two days. At least he remembered to take what money there was in the utility belt. Five hundred dollars might keep gas in his bike to get him to wherever he needed to go, and he could live on the barest essentials, but eventually he would have to find a job.

'I left my wallet at the Manor," Dick thought. 'As Robin I don't . . . didn't carry I.D. I'm going to have to ask Alfred to send it to me."

Right now, the only place he had was his room at the boarding house at New Carthage. He knew he would not be able to stay there for long without Bruce searching for him.

'It looks like New Carthage and Hudson University will be without their "hero."' Dick thought. 'I don't know what I'm going to do with my things. My VW van won't hold everything. I'm glad I asked Alfred to collect what I'll be leave behind. He can keep them for me until . . .' He didn't know if he would be returning.

Tears slipped down Dick's face as he climbed onto his bike, remembering the words he had written to Bruce.

_Remember the last time you fired me? You took Robin away from me then, too. Well, I'm taking him away from you. You may have the uniform, but you can't take Robin away from me completely. My parents called me Robin long before I became your partner. Now the partnership's been dissolved. Don't try to find me, you won't. As for being a crime fighter . . . you said you needed total devotion. Total devotion? To what? I took an OATH. If taking an oath and living by that oath for the past eight years isn't total devotion then I don't know what is. Or do you mean total devotion to you. We both should know that's unrealistic. I'm not that kid any more and I guess you don't need a son after all. You've made it clear you really don't need anyone. You going to tell the JLA you don't need them, only Gotham? I have the Titans . . . You going to take that from me as well? What's left isn't worth very much._

_Maybe you should have left me where you found me. You would not have been saddled with some ward for eight years and you would have been free to fight crime the way you wanted to and I would be with my parents. Their dead, maybe I should have been dead, too. I told you once in a letter that I loved you. I never thought I'd love anyone else as a parent. Did you ever love me? I thought you did, but you were never able to say it. Goodbye Bruce Wayne. The next time you see me . . . just pretend you don't know me._

Dick revved up the engine on his bike and headed away from Gotham City, away from Batman . . . and away from Bruce Wayne. His only regret was Alfred. He was going to miss the butler who became like a grandfather to him.

'Happy New Year, Bruce,' thought Dick. 'I hope you find what you're looking for.'

The images faded from his mind and Dick stirred briefly. He could sense being lifted and placed on some kind of gurney. He heard voices, but he wasn't certain as to who they were. Was he a prisoner? No, the smells that came to his nose told him that he was home. 'Maybe I should not have come,' he thought, but he was quickly slipping back into the darkness totally unaware that his life was in the balance.

Continues with Part 3 – A Broken Wing Needs Mending


	3. A Broken Wing Needs Mending

Between Father's and Sons

By

AJ

Part 3 – A Broken Wing Needs Mending

The screech of tires, the sudden impact and a body being flung into the air, twisting then falling several yards away brought a look of horror on the driver's face all contributed to bring the night to a horrendous end. The figure cloaked in darkness jumped from the car and ran to the body that lay near an entrance that was supposed to be secret.

Who was he? Was he even alive? The dark figure knelt down, took off a glove and reached for the pulse point on the neck of the prone figure. There was a pulse, but it was weak and thready. He could not have hit him that hard despite his quick breaking to reduce the impact. In the headlights of the vehicle, he examined the fallen figure as best he could. His bare hand rested on the young man's right hip and felt the tell tale stickiness and it came away, covered in blood. He didn't know who the young man was, but he could not allowed him to die on the road. He would have to face the consequences later. Still a few questions did form in his mind. Who was this young man? Was he a new villain or a new vigilante? What was he doing outside the entrance? And how did he know it was even there?

The figure picked up the unconscious young man and placed him in the passenger seat. He climbed in the car, backed up then turned and entered the hidden entrance. The car came to an abrupt stop. It started to turn on the concealed carrousel and the man in the driver's seat rushed out and went to the medical bay area of the cave and grabbed a gurney. As the passenger side moved into position where the car was facing the exit, the dark figure opened the passenger side door and nearly ripped it off its hinges. He pulled the young man out and placed him on the gurney. The dark figure moved the gurney to the medical bay and immediately removed the lower half of the young vigilante's costume to get at the wound in his right hip. The dark figure could not help notice that the lower half of the young man's costume was covered in blood. A figure in the background approached silently but knew exactly what was needed.

"I need a probe," the dark figure ordered.

The older man behind him handed the cloaked figure the instrument.

The cloaked man took the probe and carefully placed it into the wound feeling it hit something hard and metallic. The wound continued to bleed.

"Looks like the bullet is still in there."

Suddenly the young vigilante stirred and tried to curl into a ball.

"Nooooo," the young man mumbled.

The cloaked figure hesitated only for a moment. He thought he recognized the voice, but he couldn't be sure. He shook it off and concentrated on what needed to be done.

"Forceps then hold him down. I need to get the bullet out."

The older man handed the cloaked figure the requested instrument then assisted in keeping the young man from turning onto his side by stretching his body over the young man's upper body. The young man struggled, but in his compromised state, he wasn't able to fight off the older man.

The cloaked man carefully removed the remains of a large caliber bullet and placed it in a nearby tray.

"Better give him a sedative as well as a local anesthetic. It looks like the bullet nicked an artery. That's going to need repair. I'll turn that procedure over to you. This guy has lost a lot of blood."

"Where did you find him?" the older man asked. "And who is he?"

". . . Near the entrance to the cave." The cloaked man was reluctant to mention how he happened upon the young man.

The older man didn't question the cloaked figure further, but continued to work on the young man. He injected the young man with a local anesthetic and started an IV for fluids. The older man was about to add the sedative through the IV when the young man's eyes behind his mask opened. In a soft voce he spoke one word.

"Bruce."

"What? Did you say something?"

"Must . . . find . . . Bruce."

"Master Bruce."

"What is it Alfred? I'm trying to determine this guy's blood type. He'll need a transfusion. You should be suturing up that artery."

"You're right, Sir," Alfred prepared the suturing kit and started to work on the wound as soon as the young man was asleep once again. Working in silence, Alfred worked on repairing the nicked artery then suturing the wound closed. Alfred turned back to his patient and noticed the structure of the young man's face. He should have recognized him the moment he saw him. Why hadn't he? Perhaps it was due to the young man's attire. While Alfred had been suturing the wound, Bruce prepared to bandage the area after thoroughly cleaning away the remaining blood.

"Master Bruce," Alfred stated again. "I know who he is."

"How could you know? Neither of us has seen him before."

"Look beyond the costume," Alfred said.

Finally, taking a moment to think about Alfred's words, he turned to look at the young vigilante's face. Something about the young man was familiar. No, it couldn't be. Bruce brushed his hand through the young man's hair then along the young man's chin. A smear of make-up came off on his glove revealing a small scar. Bruce's eyes grew wide not daring to hope that the young man lying wounded on the medical bay table was whom he thought.

Slowly Bruce reached up and carefully grasping the mask, he started to remove it. The mask was stuck tight. Taking a cotton pad and some rubbing alcohol, he carefully removed the spirit gum holding the mask in place. Bruce also removed the black polish around the young man's eyes. The black polish gave added protection to hide the skin color and to help cut glare from sudden flashes of light. Bruce remembered the first time he started using the polish to help disguise his facial features. Once the polish was removed, the full face of the young man was revealed.

"Great Scott! It's Dick!"

A voice unexpectedly popped up.

"Who's Dick?"

A boy about ten years of age with strawberry blond hair stood near the edge of the medical bay. He was wearing a pair of sweat pants and T-shirt and he carried a long staff. He had seen Bruce come into the cave. He also saw him carry someone from the batmobile and lay that person on a gurney. He wanted to know then, but waited. For some reason, he knew that wasn't the time to ask. Now, with Bruce's sudden exclamation, Jason Todd couldn't resist asking, but instead of an answer . . .

"Jason, get back to your practice," Bruce ordered. "We'll discuss it later."

The boy slowly walked back toward the workout area trying to crane his neck to see whom it was that lay on the medical bay table. He could see a man with dark, almost black hair. He wore a mask. Curiosity almost drove him back to ask more questions, but he knew Bruce would reprimand him for it. Questions formed in his mind, like the one he just asked and did not get an answer for. One thing though did weigh heavily on his mind, the look on Bruce's face. Bruce never looked at him that way, like a beloved father. What was so special about this guy? Jason knew one thing for certain. He was going to find out, whether Bruce liked it or not.

Continues with Part 4


	4. Alfred's Recollection

Between Father's and Sons

By

AJ

Part 4 - Alfred's Recollection

"Watch over him," Bruce said as he replaced the cowl over his head and left for the batmobile.

"Where are you going, Sir?"

"To follow a trail."

Alfred watched Master Batman leave. He knew that Bruce was shaken by the whole ordeal with the return of his son in such a manner. He could sense that Master Bruce had not revealed everything that he knew about finding the boy . . . now a young man. It had been a year since Masters Bruce and Richard had argued, an argument that ended in disaster. Master Richard had not returned to the Manor. In fact he had disappeared that night right out into the middle of a snowstorm. Alfred went over those moments to try to understand what happened.

"You what?" Alfred questioned his older charge.

"I fired him," Bruce said.

"You fired him. You don't expect me to wear this?" Alfred questioned regarding the new uniform that he specifically designed for the young Master, knowing he was growing up and needed to change his look.

"No of course not," Bruce said regretting his words.

"Then why did you say what you did?" Alfred said coldly. He hadn't disciplined Master Bruce for callous misspoken words since Master Dick had been a boy. Bruce had fired Dick then too. More out of fear than out of any misplaced anger.

"I . . . I . . . don't know."

"You have better correct this before it goes any further."

"I better go talk to him. Is he up in his room?"

"No, Sir." Alfred said. "I have been here the whole time. He did not go past me."

"What?" Suddenly Bruce's face paled realizing what he had done.

"Your son is gone, Master Wayne," Alfred said formally. "Now you must live with that fact."

For two days Alfred saw a change come over Bruce. He stayed down in the bat cave, searching for answers, searching for his son's whereabouts, but not leaving. The strong signal of the tracking devise that had been in Master Richard's utility belt had faded. Alfred could not understand why Bruce would not go out and physically search for his son. Perhaps the stubbornness of pride was preventing him from admitting he was wrong.

'I have never seen such a dedicated young man as Master Richard besides Master Bruce. Unlike Bruce the boy's dedication stemmed from doing what was right, whatever it was, whether fighting crime or helping others in the memory of his parents. Somewhere along the road, the student surpassed the master and that somehow rankled the old dog.' Alfred thought. 'You would think after having a cooling off period both would realize that the words were spoken in haste.' But there was no sign of the young master and the older master was swiftly depleting his resources.

The box was delivered that morning. It was addressed to Alfred Pennyworth. There was no return address. The handwriting looked familiar and Alfred was not about to voice what he knew to his remaining charge and employer just yet. It had already been a shock to his mind when Master Bruce told him in a tone that he had not heard him speak in years, not since before . . . and now all of that had been shattered. In so many unspoken words Alfred had been forbidden to speak his name, but he could not help thinking that both Master Richard and Master Bruce had made some terrible grievous mistakes, ones that they would regret for the rest of their lives.

Alfred opened the package, carefully removing the brown paper wrapping then opening the box's lid. His face paled at what he saw. The bright red fabric that was once a vest was torn to shreds. The black circle with its moniker had been ripped away as if the heart and soul had been torn asunder. The rest of the clothing was equally devastated as the vest. At the bottom of the pile of rags was the black and gold belt, stripped of its contents except for a small device that had since been drained of its power. What wasn't in the box gave Alfred hope that the person's identity was still in tact. Then he read the note that was addressed to him and realized that had not been done by some unknown assailant, but the wearer of that particular garment. Master Richard Grayson, his adopted grandson in his heart, had ripped the heart out of Robin.

"Oh my boy," Alfred thought, "Don't you know this will not be the end of Robin? Without you, Batman . . ." his thoughts unfinished Alfred once again went through the ruined clothing and found a second note addressed to Bruce. He knew what he had to do. For two nights straight Bruce sat at the computer trying to find any trace of his runaway son. Technically, Dick was a runaway. He would not officially be free of the guardianship until he was 21, but Alfred knew a secret from six months ago, that Bruce had wanted to surprise Dick with when the New Year began. There hadn't been an opportunity until then. That surprise would have to be postponed, put on hold until Bruce and Dick could work out their differences. Looking into the box, however, Alfred's thoughts took a darker, sadder tone.

'I'm afraid this will only cause the rift to widen into a chasm that will be too wide for them to reach across and mend. They are so much alike in that regard, stubborn as mules, yet deep in feeling no matter the issue.'

Alfred had seen Master Bruce at his worst moments, the anger and the hurt, driving him to do the extreme only to come home with injuries that a normal human being would succumb to. When Master Richard entered the house and their lives, Master Bruce became a different person, more concerned for the safety of his young charge and more careful in handling his own safety. He still took risks, but they became more calculated. Now Alfred feared that Master Bruce would once again become that dark angry, frightening figure, not being able to control his emotions where a mistake could cost him his life.

Alfred remembered those earlier days. He feared for his "son" and he did see Bruce as a son. The look in his eyes had been dark and terrible. No matter how many times Bruce would deny it, Alfred knew the truth. Justice wasn't in the mind of Bruce Wayne once he put on that mantle. Projecting fear into the criminal underworld was his main focus, fear and revenge. Alfred knew that Bruce would never step over that thin line, but there was always a first, waiting, lurking, tempting the dark knight of Gotham City. If and when that first time might come, Alfred was afraid that Bruce would not be able to stop himself. Not only would it be the end of Batman, it would be the end of Bruce Wayne.

Alfred looked down into the sleeping face of his second charge and cupped his hand along the young man's cheek.

"I am so pleased, you've returned Master Richard. You do not know how sorely you are needed. Without your light, this cave would be forever in darkness. I just hope after you awaken, you will decide to stay."

A light touch on his arm brought Alfred out of his rumination. Master Jason stood beside him this time the staff was missing from his hand.

"Alfred, who is he and why did Bruce look so angry?"

Alfred debated on what to tell Master Jason. Bruce had given him specific instructions not to go into certain details with the boy otherwise he might learn some things that Master Bruce was not ready to reveal to Master Jason until he was prepared to receive that information. Even so, it wouldn't hurt to tell Jason whom the young man was, and whom he was to Master Bruce. The boy would find out eventually.

"His name is Master Richard Grayson-Wayne. He is Master Bruce's adopted son."

"I've been here three months, why hasn't Bruce told me about him." Jason asked.

Alfred brushed his hand along Dick's sleeping shoulder.

"I suspect if Master Bruce wanted you to know, he would have told you."

"But why?"

"That is for Master Bruce to explain."

An alarm went off on the computerized analysis machine. Alfred took the slip of paper that emerged and shook his head.

"He is going to need a second pint of blood."

"Will he die?" Jason asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Not if we can help it, young sir," Alfred replied.

"Why is he wearing a costume?"

"Like Master Bruce, he also is a crime fighter."

"Wait a minute . . . " Jason's eyes narrowed. He looked over toward a glass case that contained a red, green, and yellow costume with the label Robin. "Did he used to wear that costume?"

"Yes," Alfred answered. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I remember seeing on the television about Batman and Robin. My Dad would always turn it off. I don't know why he always seemed angry when the news would report about their latest crime-fighting exploit. That was when I was seven."

"You knew about Batman and Robin?"

"Of course. I wanted to be like Robin, but . . . my Dad, he . . . He would scoff at the idea. Said I wouldn't amount to much. And if I wanted to be someone in Gotham, I had to . . . never mind."

"Well Master Jason . . . just remember . . . Your father was wrong. You are in training, remember?" Alfred stated.

Jason had a doubtful look on his face. 'Yeah, right. Now that this Dick Grayson is back, I probably won't be here for long. He'll probably be Robin again. Bruce won't want me.'

"Uh . . . hum." Alfred did his best to gain Jason's attention once more. "I will need assistance in getting Master Richard to his room."

"He has a room here?" Jason asked. 'Gee that was a dumb question, of course he has a room here.'

"Yes. It is the first room on the right just before Master Bruce's."

"My room is on the left across the hall. Bruce keeps that room locked."

"And with good reason," Alfred added. "He has preserved the room for Master Richard's return."

"So, where's he been anyway?"

The very question that Alfred and Bruce would also like to know.

Continues with Part 5


	5. Words We Can Never Take Back

Between Father's and Sons

By

AJ

Part 5 - Words We Can Never Take Back

He hadn't heard from him for a year since Dick left. 'And suddenly he shows up, practically on my doorstep. In a new costume.'

Images of the young man bleeding and broken on the medical bay table came to him as he realized it was all his fault. He couldn't stop it from happening. Now he was watching his son dying before his eyes.

"HE NEEDS BLOOD!"

Alfred grabbed a pint of blood that Bruce had added to the stores. It was his own pint. At the same time, Bruce grabbed an oxygen mask and started giving his ward . . . his son oxygen to aid in getting his son stable.

"MASTER BRUCE!" Alfred cried. "The Monitor!"

Dick's heart suddenly stopped.

'God NO!' Bruce and Alfred worked together in frenzied silence to revive the young man, but all their efforts were in vain. The young man had lost too much blood. The single tone of the heart monitor felt like a death knell . . .

. . . Batman was jolted out of his thoughts as he suddenly became aware of the slow moving vehicle in front of him. He barely swerved out of the way in time then chastised himself for allowing his worried thoughts for the young man to interfere in his mission. He had to find out what Dick had been working on before he got shot.

'No, those images aren't the truth,' Batman stated in his mind. 'He's safe with Alfred. It's just my fears. This past year has been the worst. Why did I fire him? Dick was right. He took an oath. I didn't ask him to do that. He wanted it, and I obliged him.'

Batman didn't want to examine his thoughts on the subject. His own feelings were complicated when it came to the boy . . . 'No Richard is now a man. I must face that fact. That's what Alfred had been trying to tell me.' He had Jason now, and he had to think about his needs as well, but it was difficult with Dick still in possible danger.

Batman started from the cave entrance and moved toward the river, which seemed the most logical course. The special ultraviolet spectrum on the batmobile lights was able to spot the blood trail that Dick had left behind. Much of the blood had been absorbed by Dick's costume, but there was a trail that ended at the bridge that lead to Newtown. The drops of blood lead across the bridge but ended there.

'This must have been where he got shot.'

What was Dick doing back there?

Batman examined the bridge and found several rounds of armor piercing bullets as well as where one hit the metal. It must have ricocheted. Was that the one that hit Dick? It was pretty high up on the structure. Whomever Dick was chasing, they certainly didn't want to be caught. 'I wonder what they were transporting.'

Batman looked around and found several tall trees and in among them was Dick's motorcycle. It hadn't changed much except for the color. There were a few other modifications that Bruce recognized, one of them being an automatic pilot that would allow the motorcycle to run on its own. Bruce had to be proud of Dick for that modification. He also found another one. 'Remote control?' Batman had to shake his head. 'Why did I ever doubt you.' Alfred's words came back to haunt him, including his own, thinking about that night one year ago.

"He's got to be committed to this work 100%"

"And you believe that he's not?" Alfred questioned. "You took the boy in, gave him a purpose and sent him to the finest school. He worked by your side, day and night, eagerly, never questioning. Then something changed."

Bruce recalled his earlier words accusing Dick that he wasn't dedicated enough and that the Titans weren't doing real work, which was a falsehood even he had to admit to.

"Did you not want him to make friends?" Alfred accused. "To know what it was to work with a team and be a leader? Go to college? Become a man that you could be proud of? Has he not done that? Or has he squandered what you have taught him?"

Bruce hadn't answered Alfred so the butler had continued. Bruce remembered every word cutting him with a truth that he did not want to face.

"From my perspective I see a man who wants to be proud but refuses to allow it. Instead I see a boy who is jealous of the young man because he has what you do not."

Bruce remembered nearly turning his anger on the old butler. "Don't go there Alfred or . . . "

"Or you'll dismiss me? You have driven your son not only from the cave, but also from this house. Be careful that you do not drive me out as well. Remember, you are not too old to be turned over on my knee, Master Bruce Thomas Wayne. Go after your son."

Alfred could always reduce him to feeling like that eight-year-old who lost his parents. Sometimes it wasn't enough to remind him what was important, especially when it came to Dick. Bruce's feelings didn't want to be swayed.

"He's NOT my son," Bruce yelled now further out of control. "He made it perfectly clear that I wasn't his father."

"And what have you been trying to do in the family courts for the past eight years? Even though you made it perfectly clear that you did not want to be a father to that boy whom you brought into this house. What were your reasons?"

"I know why I brought him . . ."

Alfred didn't want to hear those reasons. Instead he went on to lecture the brooding knight. "That boy needed a father more than you will ever know." Alfred continued pointing out the obvious. "And yet you were always at his side when he was hurt or ill. You provided advise when he needed it and helped him with his homework. You've seen him grow and become a young man and leave this home, a home you provided. If that is not the definition of a father, then I do not know what is. Now, go after him or I shall and if I do then you shall not see me again."

That threat nearly undid Bruce. He did try to go after his son, but the storm proved too great and by the time he remembered the tracking device it was too late. Dick was gone.

Bruce had gone down to the cave and saw the blip of the tracking device that represented Dick on the map of Gotham City. It remained stationary and Bruce had hopes of finding his son, but upon checking the location, he discovered it was a post office. It was obvious that Dick had removed the device. There was nothing they could do. Bruce searched for the device after the storm ended, but he never found it. Its power had drained over night. Thoughts of Dick dying out in the storm or being kidnapped without a trace nearly drove him mad, until the box arrived. Seeing the torn costume Bruce recalled just how much damage his words had caused. He couldn't take them back.

Now his son was back, lying wounded in the medical bay and not just from a bullet wound. His body was traumatized from being struck. Batman wouldn't blame Dick if he were to leave once his wound was sufficiently healed. Batman returned to the bat cave. There was nothing more he could do other than trace where the armor-piercing bullet might have come from. Perhaps Robin . . . No. Dick was no longer Robin and that hurt too. Jason was in training, a bargain that he and the lad made to keep him out of jail. Batman rather that it wouldn't be so, but Gordon and several others wondered where Robin had gone to. It was difficult to explain his absence, and Batman found he missed having a partner at his side, but Jason wasn't Dick and that was something he had to face.

For now, Bruce hoped that the damage wasn't too great where the rift between them could be repaired. Bruce had an inkling how that repair should come about, if he dared to take it. He was never very good with words. He felt his actions spoke for him more.

'I just hope Dick realizes that and is willing to listen.'

Continues with Part 6 – Falling Deeper Into the Well


	6. Falling Deeper Into the Well

Between Father's and Sons

By

AJ

Part 6 - Falling Deeper Into The Well

Dick Grayson heard the sound of birds tweeting and a light breeze was coming through the open balcony doors. Dick tried to turn on his right side and pain exploded behind his eyes.

"Ohhhh!" but that wasn't the only pain he'd been feeling. Something else was wrong and like his former mentor, he wasn't about to let that stop him. Dick tried to rise from the bed, but was easily pushed back down by gentle hands.

"Easy Master Richard. Your hip is going to take several weeks to heal. Not to mention the loss of blood that will take months. Though I don't recall those bruises, luckily those will only take several . . ."

Dick turned onto his left hip, trying to get comfortable to try to ease the sudden sharp pain he felt just below the bandage that covered his gunshot wound. It didn't help. The white-hot pain kept him from thinking straight, barely hearing Alfred's words.

"Master Richard . . . where did you get this bruising. It's almost black."

". . . Car . . . struck . . ." Dick's words were barely coherent. He was still groggy from the sedatives that he was given and the pain was becoming more unbearable..

"What car?" Alfred asked, a sinking feeling entered the pit of his stomach.

"Outside . . . entrance . . ."

That was all Alfred could get out of Master Dick before the old cherished butler saw that the young Master had fallen back into the arms of Morpheus, not knowing that his charge was going to require more than his services once more.

Alfred looked up to see Bruce standing in the doorway. He saw the look on Alfred's face as he discovered the bruising to Dick's back, and Bruce recalled how it happened.

'I could have killed him,' And Bruce turned away, ashamed of what he had nearly done. He always feared that Dick would be killed at the hands of someone like the Joker or Two-Face, not by being struck by a car, and not just any car, his, the batmobile.

"Master Bruce," Alfred came close and stood in front of the distraught father. "There is more here than just finding a wounded bird," the butler pointed out. Alfred guided Bruce out into the hall. "The look on your face tells me there is more than just a gunshot wound that has disturbed you."

"Yes, and very perceptive of you Alfred," though Bruce did not elaborate further.

"Not at all, Sir," Alfred said. "I just had a very enlightening conversation with the young master. You told me that you found him near the entrance to the cave. He told me that there was a car and that he was struck. If I may be so bold, Sir," Alfred guided Bruce further down the hall and continued. "If I were to examine the Batmobile, might I find traces of Master Richard's . . . blood . . . on the front?"

Bruce lowered his head, his face a mask, but his eyes gave away the anguish he felt inside.

"Do not try to hide the pain from me, Master Bruce. You know you cannot. And I know it was an accident. You must not blame yourself."

"I could have killed him, Alfred," Bruce's words came out as an anguished whisper. "I don't know what I would have done if I . . ."

"Your son is alive because he came home. I had to give him two pints of blood. And while you were out, I checked for other injuries. There were none. Just the severe bruising."

'How did you know?"

"There was too much bruising for just a gunshot wound. The bruising to his backside confirms what I suspected."

"I . . . I feel so terrible . . ."

"Master Bruce, be thankful that it was you who came along that road. We know there are others who have come up that road in the past. The road does go through the Wayne property and into the back woods. You and I have caught reporters and even poachers on that road before. It could have easily had been someone else. Be thankful that it wasn't. Otherwise our boy may not have made it home."

"You're right Alfred. I should be grateful that he came home, but I can't help but feel he may not stay after what I did."

"We shall deal with it when it comes." Alfred reminded him. "Now, I must prepare some breakfast. It is morning after all, and perhaps you should sit with him."

Bruce hesitated, feeling like the intruder. He suddenly felt awkward and the thoughts and feelings of the past year threatened to overwhelm him. He eventually would have to confront them, but not right at that moment. He just wasn't ready to face his son just yet. Perhaps there was another way.

Bruce went down to the study and sat at his desk trying to focus on what he needed to do, but his thoughts kept returning to the night Dick left. He still felt ashamed for reacting the way he did. He took that anger out on Dick by withholding information, punishing him for being late, and refusing to listen to the explanation that his son had wanted to tell him.

He later learned why when Speedy called the cave to tell Robin that the rest of Deathstroke's operation had been secured. Hearing that Batman wondered why had Deathstroke attacked the Titans? After doing a quick investigation. Bruce realized he had wronged Robin even more by refusing to listen to him that night. And this was within hours after Robin had left. No wonder Robin had been so keyed up and had dealt with Clayface so easily that night. Bruce realized he had been holding Robin back, all because he . . . Why? What was the difference?

Then it dawned on him; the adoption, all because he was now officially his son and heir. Something deep inside grew to a proportion that left him out of control, a fear so primal that he could not comprehend it at first, making excuses that were far from the truth. Bruce realized he felt it before. He tried to voice it then, but it ended in the same way. Last time Bruce had ripped Robin from Dick. This time Dick had ripped the heart out of Robin and now . . . Dick's secret identity . . . has changed.

'But how do I let Dick know that I am sorry. We haven't been able to communicate lately. It's as if we are on different pages. There has to be a way.'

Then something fell from a nearby shelf. It was the Hagakure. It fell open to a particular passage, a passage that Bruce had marked.

_It is said that even with an adopted child, if you teach him continually, so he will resemble you, he surely will._

'But I have not continually taught him,' Bruce thought. "Others have been teaching him and that is where the problem lies. I am afraid . . . afraid that . . . afraid he no longer needs me.'

"Bruce?"

"Dick?" Bruce looked up to see his . . . his son standing in the doorway, his blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He looked hunched over, and there was a pinched-look to his face. He also looked very pale, which had to be from the loss of blood. How had he made it down the stairs?

"I . . . I need to talk . . ." Dick took a step and nearly collapsed.

Bruce was instantly on his feet and he caught Dick before he hit the floor. Bruce could feel the raging fever through the light blanket.

"You're burning up."

"Tried to stop them . . ." Dick said fighting the fever. "Had to let you know."

"Who?"

"Don't know. New drugs . . . coming out of . . . Newtown and . . . possibly 'Haven. Must stop them. Need . . . your . . . help."

Bruce braced himself and picked Dick up in his arms. The kid had put on weight. He felt like solid muscle, but the muscle could waste away if he didn't get the boy's temperature down.

'There must be an infection,' Bruce realized. 'He could die from it if it's not taken care of and quickly.'

Dick went limp in Bruce's arms and he feared the worst. He took him back upstairs to his room and lay Dick back in his bed and placed the covers over him.

"Master Bruce, I made some breakfast . . . "Alfred hesitated seeing the concerned look in Bruce's face as he placed a hand on Dick's forehead.  
"Has something happened?"

"We need to start an IV," Bruce said. "His temperature is up."

"That quickly?" Alfred said alarmed. "I shall go at once and get the supplies."

"Just some saline and a round of antibiotics," Bruce said as he brushed his hand along Dick's too dry skin. 'Please Dick don't die, not now. I just got you back.'

Alfred quickly returned and stood behind Bruce setting up the IV stand and saline. "Don't worry Master Bruce. Broken wings will mend. And Robin will fly again."

"That's just it. He's no longer Robin," Bruce's voice came out sounding sad and nostalgic.

"Oh his moniker may change, but in his heart . . ." Alfred did not say anything more, but continued to hook up the IV.

'Are you still my Robin? My Wing? . . . My partner?' Then Bruce remembered he fired the lad and his heart sank like a stone in a well. He felt like he was falling and there was no one to catch him. Bruce let his body sink in the chair that Alfred provided and covered his face with his hands. He felt like he had done a great disservice, not just to Dick, but to someone else as well.

'I know I made a promise, to take care of your . . . my . . . our son. Mr. and Mrs. Grayson, forgive me, what have I done.'

Jason had heard the commotion. He peeked into Dick's room to see Bruce sitting by the man's bed, his face in his hands. He swallowed, concerned for his mentor. He didn't know why, but he suddenly felt bad for him, and yet. His eyes narrowed. Why was Bruce acting this way? Jason felt a sudden pang of jealousy. Bruce never seemed to act like that with him. He always seemed to keep his distance, not showing much emotion, whether he cared or not, Jason wasn't sure. The past three months though had been incredible. He couldn't believe his luck that he was training to be Robin. Though in his mind, he wondered who the first Robin had been. He saw clips of the first Robin in action and remembered Batman's words.

"You're to train to become him," Batman stated, pointing at the young figure in the video clip.

"Why? What happened to him?"

Batman didn't answer Jason's question, but stated instead, "You're going to need to know acrobatics besides learning how to fight. Plus, you'll need to study hard. I know your grades aren't the best, but you need to be able to solve crimes from examining the clues, not just going after those that commit crimes. I'm giving you a second chance rather than turning you over to the authorities. Here's an opportunity for you to turn your life around, Jason. I suggest you take it."

He still wasn't sure why Batman made him that offer. He'd been getting by with stealing. It might not be much, but he had to provide for his mother. With her being sick all the time, she wasn't able to work.

"What about my Mom? I've got to provide for her." Jason countered.

"Don't worry, she'll have what she needs. You'll be given an allowance. Do you agree? Or do I take you back where I found you and let the cops handle you. You did steal my tires after all."

"No, I'll agree so long as my mother is taken care of."

"Very well, Jason Todd, you have a deal."

To think he was going to be Batman's new partner filled Jason with deep pride, and longing, longing to get back at those who left him and his Mom destitute and without a father. Then Batman revealed his secret, and Jason was floored. Bruce Wayne was Batman? Now it seemed to make some sense. Only someone with the wealth of Bruce Wayne could have afforded what the Batman had, and Jason was going to take advantage of it. At least Bruce was providing for her. Bruce had one stipulation. Jason had to live with him. Jason though couldn't quite leave his Mother alone in that apartment. He agreed to at least come and stay on the weekends and a few days during the week after school for a couple of hours to train. The rest of the time he spent it with his Mom.

Jason looked at the time. 'I better get going. I'm only supposed to be here on the weekend. Mom will kill me if I don't get home. I better let Alfred know.' Even so Jason was drawn to Bruce's side. He felt he should say something, but he wasn't sure what. He approached carefully, not wanting to disturb his mentor, but somehow he always knew when Jason was there.

"Jason."

"I . . . is he going to be okay?"

"I hope so," Bruce said.

"I've . . . I've got to . . . get home. I hope . . . your son . . . gets better."

Bruce didn't say anything but kept his eyes on Dick's face. Just when Jason started to leave, Bruce grabbed his arm and pulled him in hugging him tightly, surprising Jason.

"Thanks," Bruce whispered in Jason's hear.

Continues with Part 7 – Hitting Rock Bottom


	7. Hitting Rock Bottom

Between Father's and Sons

By

AJ

Part 7 Hitting Rock Bottom

Dick tossed and turned as his temperature climbed. Nightmares also plague him. He was reliving memories over the past year. The memories quickly became distorted. Bruce's face raged at him, eyes blazing as he growled out the words, "YOU'RE FIRED! GET OUT OF MY CAVE!" Bruce grew larger with every word as he loomed over Dick, who grew smaller. Dick pleaded with the giant Bruce. "No! Don't! Please Bruce, I can explain!"

"No . . . Don't . . . Please Bruce . . . I can explain," Dick mumbled in his sleep, tears literally streaming down his face. "No . . . no . . . please."

Bruce intrigued sat up and listened to the rambling of his son in his fevered state.

"Don't fire me please. You can't I swore an oath," Dick pleaded, the anguish apparent in his voice.

Back in Dick's nightmare, again the giant Bruce bellowed at him to get out of his cave until finally Dick ran, tears streaming down his face, his Robin uniform in tatters.

Dick's feverish pleading caused Bruce's heart to ache and he tried to comfort his son, but the nightmare wasn't over. In Dick's fevered dreams he wandered aimlessly. His costume changed and it was as if he had a new purpose. The Titans appeared in front of him, a few old friends like Wonder Girl and Kid Flash, but some new ones as well, ones that he tried to get to know over the past year, Starfire, Cyborg, Raven, and the Changeling. Those four came in during the summer and his second year at Hudson University. For a time, they seemed to accept Robin's leadership, but when he returned wearing a different costume and a different name, they acted as if they had become strangers. Wonder Girl and Kid Flash still supported him, but during the months that Dick had been missing, someone had to step up to be a leader and unfortunately it wasn't his old friend Kid Flash. When Dick returned to the Watch Tower, there was tension in the air and a confrontation would soon occur that would change the Titans forever. The dream-like images flowed and warped themselves into another nightmare, starting with Starfire. Though she joined the Titans, Starfire never really mentioned how old she really was, just the fact that she was a princess from another world sent to learn about being a warrior so she could learn to protect her people. Dick had developed feelings for her the summer before his second year at Hudson University. He found her mysterious and alluring. He thought she felt the same way, but unfortunately she did not. Though they worked well together, and became friends, Robin wanted more. She became evasive hinting at she wanted more of a man than a boy. Suddenly the dream changed and it was a new figure that stood before her.

"I'm Nightwing now, maybe you'll like me more. Please Starfire, give me a chance. I love you."

"Love? You are too young to know what true love is former boy wonder. A new name and costume does not make you a man. You are so far beneath me you cannot reach the base of the pedestal. You are nothing but a mere human."

Then a mission gone wrong, and Starfire had been killed. Cyborg questioned his leadership, blaming him for the mistakes that were made.

"I wouldn't have done it that way," Cyborg said. "You let Starfire die! It was your fault."

"I did what I could there just wasn't enough time!" Nightwing argued. "If you would have listened everyone would have gotten out."

"You're old school. We need fresh ideas! You're getting too old for the Titans. It's time you step down. We don't need you here, we don't want you here."

Raven and the Changeling joined in with Cyborg.

"You can't do that," Nightwing mumbled. "KF and I . . . we started . . . the Titans."

"Sorry, bro," Kid Flash said, turning his back. "Cyborg is right. We wasted too much time and Starfire paid the price."

"What? KF . . . Don't do this. We've been friends since . . ."

Cyborg with his machine enhanced strength struck Dick across the chin. Dick tried to recover using his body's momentum to flip over and back onto his feet, but all he found was a slippery slope, one that he continued to slip down, right into a whirlpool. "NOOOOOO!"

Bruce could hear Dick's mumbling, but not the images that were playing in Dick's mind. He knew that Dick created a new costume and not a new name. He didn't know that just ten months ago, Dick returned to the Titans and after six months he had faced rejection not only by Starfire but by the Titans as well. Bruce didn't know that the Titans didn't want to be lead by Dick's new persona NIghtwing; a persona that he created after Robin had been taken from him. The new persona was untried, but no matter how Dick tried to tell them it was only a new name and image, that he was still their leader, they could not be persuaded. Too old for Robin, not quite old enough to face the world alone, Dick had hit rock bottom. Once again he wandered, going to Metropolis for three months and then realized that Metropolis just wasn't his home. Talking with "Uncle Clark" didn't do him any favors either.

"Why can't I stay here, Uncle Clark?" Dick asked. "I could help. Please."

"You did help me that one time, and I appreciate it, but Superman doesn't need a partner, Dick. And around here Nightwing isn't known. The police only think of you as a danger. And if you're having problems with Bruce, you really need to talk to him."

"He . . . He fired me. Threw me out. I . . . I don't have any other place to go."

"You can stay here for a while, but Bruce would not want me interfering. I'm sorry."

"So am I," Dick said, sadly, and once again he was wandering, trying to find where he fit when his thoughts returned to the two people who hadn't rejected him, who loved him since the day he was born. Though they were gone for some years, in Dick's mind it wasn't that long ago, and yet their voices had faded from his mind leaving him feeling utterly alone. Dick returned to Newtown and once again, Bruce could hear Dick's words as he cried out in his fevered sleep.

"Mom, Dad, why . . . why don't they want me? Bruce . . . the Titans . . . even Uncle Clark . . .why?" But no answer came in that quarter.

Bruce was shocked by Dick's words. He didn't know if it was the fever talking or whether there was truth spoken more than he knew. Dick truly believed that?

'That I had rejected him? I fired Robin . . . but,' Bruce had forgotten that Dick and Robin were the same. He hadn't really spoken to Dick as much as he had been dealing with Dick's other identity. They rarely saw each other out of costume the two years that Dick had been at Hudson University, and this was the first time he had seen Dick since that night one year ago.

Bruce often rejected the company of others not because he didn't truly want it, he did. Bruce felt he couldn't take the risk of someone finding out his secret. But when Dick came along, he did the one thing he never thought he'd do. Bruce revealed that he was Batman. And because of that, he doomed his ward, now his son, to the same fate of being alone and often unloved.

Hearing Dick's pleading words however, caused Bruce to examine his own behavior toward Dick and he realized, he did want his son, very much so, but it was so hard to admit it. For now, he took Dick's ramblings as being caused by the fever. He could accept his own part in the boy's nightmares, but to also suffer rejection from the Titans and possibly Clark, Bruce would have to find out for himself what happened to cause such anguish in his son.

At that moment, Alfred came in with another dose of antibiotics and another saline bag. He changed out the empty one then added the antibiotic to the new bag.

"I took Master Jason home," Alfred stated. "Has Master Richard's temperature gone down?"

"No," Bruce replied. "I'm worried. He's had infections before, but this . . ." Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. This was really worrying him. "Could you have missed something?"

"It is possible, Sir," Alfred replied. "I may be trained as a field medic and can repair most wounds, but I am not a doctor."

"I'll carry him down to the medical bay in the cave."

"No, it could injure him further," Alfred pointed out. "I shall get the gurney."

Bruce watched Alfred rush from the room. He could hear the sound of the elevator coming up to the second floor then descend. Though the elevator ran throughout the Manor it also descended below. The elevator wasn't used that much above the main floor. Most of the time it was hidden behind wood panels and used by Alfred to access the bat cave. To use it for that purpose required a special key, all three had one. It wasn't long before Alfred returned with the gurney.

Pulling the covers back, Bruce grasped Dick by the shirt with his right hand and partially lifted him up so he could get his left arm under his son's back to support him then brought his right arm under his knees so he could lift him and place him on the gurney.

The sudden shift in movement as he was lifted onto the gurney caused Dick to stir. "Uhhh . . . hurts," Dick moaned as he was placed on the gurney he turned on his left side.

Bruce noticed that Dick pressed his right hand on the right side of his pelvis just below the wound and tried to curl up into a ball.

"Let's get him down to the cave."

They moved quickly, entering the elevator. Bruce was closest to the panel so he pulled out his key and used it to get to the lowest level. Dick continued to rock back and forth on the gurney from whatever pain he was experiencing. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead despite the fever.

"I . . . I think . . . I'm going to throw up," Dick said and leaned over the gurney. Alfred quickly grabbed a nearby bucket that had been left in the elevator. The sound of retching brought Bruce around to hold onto his son's shoulders so he wouldn't fall off the gurney. After Dick was through, Alfred pulled out a handkerchief to clean Dick's face.

"That certainly is not caused by the gunshot wound," Alfred stated.

"Something else is going on," Bruce agreed. "I'll go get Leslie."

Bruce ran to the vault and put on his Batman uniform.

"Is that necessary, Sir?' Alfred asked as he bathed Dick's forehead with another wet cloth.

"She doesn't know that Bruce is Batman or that Dick is . . . was Robin. She might question the gunshot wound if she sees it. It will also stress the necessity of the emergency."

Alfred watched as Bruce drove off in the Batmobile.

"Uhhhhh , , , Bruce . . . . Dad . . . Please . . . " Dick was once again pleading in that dream-like state, caught between waking world and true sleep.

Alfred checked Dick's temperature one more time. It was now at 103.6.

"It's all right, Master Richard," Alfred stated, "Master Bruce will return as soon as he can." Though he doubted whether his young charge heard him. Alfred hoped it would be sooner than later.

Continues with Part 8


	8. The Healer's Hand

Between Father's and Sons

By

AJ

Part 8 - The Healer's Hand

Dr. Leslie Tompkins looked up from the paperwork that she was concentrating on. Each year it seemed that the city was trying to keep her from running her clinic. And each year she always managed to pull a rabbit out of her hat, thanks to a generous donor who continued to be faceless and nameless. If only she knew who it was, she could thank them personally. Each year an envelope would be delivered with the necessary amount of cash she needed to stay open for another year. There was always a little extra, but rather than keep it for herself, Dr, Leslie Tompkins would give it to the poorest of families that needed it the most. It was her way of giving back to the community that was her home.

Leslie Tompkins went back to filling out the paperwork when a slight noise caught her attention. She looked up to see Batman standing in front of her.

"Batman, what are you doing here? It's been a few years since I've seen you."

"I need your services," Batman stated quickly, stressing the urgency of the situation.

"Is it Robin?"

"You might say that."

"I'll get my bag," Leslie responded.

"There is no need. The bat cave is fully equipped for surgery."

"Surgery?"

"I'll explain on the way. Meet me out back."

Dr. Leslie Tompkins watched as the Batman left through the open window. She still followed her instincts and grabbed her own medical bag. She wasn't sure what Batman had and she wasn't about to operate in a cave. Leslie wasn't about to leave without telling someone either.

"Candice," Leslie called her medical assistant. "I need to deal with an emergency. You can take care of a few patients while I'm gone?"

"Of course Dr. Tompkins. How long will you be?"

"I'm not sure. A couple of hours at least."

"I'll call if there is an emergency here," Candice stated.

"She won't be able to reach you," Batman stated once Dr. Leslie approached the batmobile out back.

"How did you . . . never mind."

"The bat cave is shielded from outside signals from unauthorized communication devices. Don't worry Dr. I'll have you back to the clinic once you're done."

Batman pulled out a small canister.

"That special gas? I thought you were going to tell me about your emergency."

"It's best that you just come with me and learn for yourself."

"I also thought you'd trust me by now."

"It's not that Dr., it's the criminals who may decide to target you. If you don't know where the bat cave is, you can't tell them anything, remember."

"Oh yeah, I guess I forgot. You haven't had need of me for a few years."

"That's because we've gotten better at not getting injured," Batman stated. 'Until now.'

Batman sprayed a light mist into Dr. Tompkins face. 'I just hope she can discover what's causing Dick's fever.'

Batman drove with as much speed as he dared. In recent years the police and the Batman have become strained. A new detective on the force was making it difficult for Batman and Commissioner Gordon to do their jobs. Detective Bullock, a heavy set man with issues of his own saw Batman as a threat to 'his' city. He wanted to have Batman and all costumed vigilantes outlawed. Bullock believed everything needed to be handled by the police, but Bullock hadn't handled the likes of the Joker or the Riddler.

'Well, if Bullock wants to handle everything, perhaps I'll let him and see where it gets him. Jim Gordon feels the same.'

Batman glanced up in his mirror to see a cop with their siren on. 'Speak of the devil.' Batman though could not afford to have a chat with the likes of Detective Bullock. Turning on his own red signal, Batman was trying to give the man the opportunity to back off as well as letting him know that he had official business. When that didn't work, Batman pushed the limits as much as he dared. Then he pressed another button, one that he had yet to test. This was a good a time as any.

"Where's he go?" Bullock complained. "I had him in my sights. Where'd he go?"

"There's no use in trying to catch the Batman. You won't Bullock."

"What are you a fan?"

"You know how Gordon feels about the guy. You're just not going to win this."

"I intend to take the Batman down, even if I have to use Commissioner Gordon to do it."

"Careful partner, you don't want to be walking a beat again."

"I just want to show Commissioner Gordon that Gotham City doesn't need the likes of that costumed freak."

Bullock's partner shook his head at the rookie. Someday he'll just have to learn the hard way. Batman worked for justice. His methods were a little different, but without his help . . . The man shuddered. 'I'd rather not think about what might happen if the Batman was suddenly gone.'

'Let's go get some coffee."

Batman gave a smirk as he looked back and saw that Bullock was no longer following him. That rookie was going to be a problem. If he didn't do something about him soon, he might put two and two together and discover something he shouldn't. He continued on his way. The stealth mode worked perfectly. It passed its first field test. With the stealth mode on, Batman could floor it and be within the bat cave within moments.

Batman jumped out of the car to check on Alfred and . . . Robin?

Batman observed that Dick was wearing his old red and green vest and a domino mask. There was a sheet and blanket over the lower half of Dick's body.

"I thought it best that he wore one of his old costumes for now."

"Good. Move . . . Robin to the surgical suite. I'll wake Dr. Tompkins. She's going to need a sterile place to work. You better make yourself scarce. We don't want her making any connection between Batman and Bruce Wayne's butler. Did Dick say anything about the costume change?"

"He didn't want to put it on at first, but I did stress the necessity of it, the fact that Dr. Tompkins has known him only as Robin. His temperature is still high, but I think I managed to get him to see reason."

Batman watched Alfred move Dick into the surgical suite while he went over to the batmobile. He opened the car door than sprayed a light mist from a different canister into Dr. Tompkin's face. She awoke to confusion at first but then recognition entered her eyes,

"Every time I come here, I am in awe. New levels, new areas . . ."

"This way Dr."

"Let me grab my bag."

Dr. Tompkins followed Batman to an area that was away from the normal medical bay area. Even so, she could not help her eyes from growing wide at the equipment that Batman had at his disposal. 'Where does he get all this?' she thought. 'He must know someone exceedingly wealthy, like Bruce Wayne?'

Dr. Tompkins almost lost track of the Dark Knight when he moved through the medical bay area going toward the back. It looked like there was nothing but shadow and rock walls. Then a panel moved aside and Dr. Tompkins was once again nearly overwhelmed with what she saw. Batman had spoken the truth. There was a complete surgical suite. It wasn't what she expected,. She almost forgot she had a patient she needed to examine. Shaking out of her star struck awe Dr. Tompkins moved over to the gurney where Robin lay curled on his side.

"Robin, Batman hasn't told me exactly what is wrong. Can you tell me?"

Dr. Tompkins brushed her hand along the young man's forehead.

"This boy is burning up. Have you given him anything to reduce the fever?"

"No," Batman stated.

"Why not?"

"It came on sudden," Batman explained. "He was out on a mission and came home . . .' Batman looked down at his partner. "Robin . . . I have to show her. You're going to have to lay on your back."

It wasn't lost on Dr. Tompkins how Batman stressed on the boy's name. Something was going on between the two, but she wasn't about to pursue the issue right at that moment.

Batman carefully coaxed the young man to lay on his back, though he continued to have his legs bent, trying to control the pain.

"Uhhhhhh . . . it hurts."

"I know it does chum, that's why Dr. Tompkins is here," Batman said, though his words lacked the warmth that they normally held.

Dr. Tompkins watched as Batman lowered the sheet and blanket to expose Robin's lower half. Her eyes narrowed when she saw the bandage covering a portion of his right hip. She watched as Batman peeled back the bandage and saw the wound and the stitches. They were professionally done.

"He came in with a gunshot wound. It was bad. It was taken care of. He was given two pints of blood and an IV with antibiotics against infection, but his temperature still went up and he's been complaining about pain."

"The wound is a little higher up than . . . Let me try something. Hold his hands for me."

Batman did as she instructed. She placed her hands on Robin's lower pelvic area then pressed down.

"OWWWWWWW!" Robin cried out then once again and tried to turn on his side.

"He's got acute appendicitis," Dr. Tompkins. "Have you noticed at any other time that he was in pain?"

"No, Robin's been . . . under cover and he just recently returned." Batman skirted the truth as much as he could. He didn't want to have to explain that Robin had been fired and had been gone for a year. He didn't expect to see the boy return. Plus the boy had a new identity that Batman didn't even know yet. So, it was best not to say too much. "The gunshot wound might have masked any of the symptoms."

"I'm going to have to operate immediately," Dr. Tompkins stated. "I am certain you are well aware that you will have to assist."

"Yes."

"Then we better get started."

Batman looked around and saw that Alfred had prepared everything ahead of time. Now that they knew what they were dealing with, hopefully, Dick would be on the mend. Still, he couldn't help thinking in the back of his mind, just what it was that Dick had been working on when he found him outside the cave entrance. He'll have to wait until 'Robin' was well enough to tell him.

Continues with Part 9


	9. On The Mend

Between Father's and Sons

By

AJ

Part 9 - On The Mend

The surgery took less than an hour. Robin's appendix though inflamed luckily had not burst. Recovery time would be a few weeks at the most. Concern for the blood loss prompted Dr. Tompkins to give Robin another pint of blood. She double-checked the sutures from the bullet wound and found them to be sound. In her mind she questioned whom it was that performed that operation, the removal of the bullet and the suturing.

'Certainly not Batman; unless he's acquired an advance knowledge of anatomy and surgeon's skills,' she thought 'Someone knew what they were doing at least with bullet wounds.' She vowed to ask him later.

Once surgery was over, Robin was moved to another part of the surgical suite to recover. There was another room offset from the surgical suite and deeper in the cave system. The room looked like it was carved out of the rock walls. Metal panels partially covered three of the walls. Lights were suspended from the roof of the small cave. Dr. Tompkins noticed where electrical conduits were attached to carry power to the room.

'If I wasn't impressed before, I am impressed even more so. The time and effort it must have taken to create this place it enormous.'

"Will you be staying Doctor?" the Batman questioned, bringing Doctor Tompkins out of her thoughts.

"Yes, if that's all right with you. I want to keep an eye on him for the next 24 hours to be sure there isn't any complications."

Batman pressed a button on a panel and a bed came out of the wall. He went to another wall and pressed a second button. A desk with a computer monitor appeared along with a chair.

"You will find everything has been recorded for your convenience."

"I will need my bag," Dr. Tompkins stated. "It contains my stethoscope along with a few other items I might need."

"I will retrieve it," Batman stated.

As he was leaving, Dr. Tompkins moved forward and placed a hand on the Dark Knight's arm.

"Robin will recover," she stated gently. "There is no need to worry."

Batman didn't say anything at first, but kept his back toward her. "I know. I . . . appreciate what you have done." The man inside the mask wanted to feel some kind of relief, but he wouldn't allow it until his son came to from the anesthetic. They had a great deal to talk about, and one issue, the biggest was forgiveness. Bruce found himself slipping back into the darkness after Dick had left to attend college. It was difficult to hang onto the light when he saw it disappearing. And last year, he drove the light away, shunned it actually with words that he never thought he would say. "I will see to it that you have something to eat. Please do not go exploring. There are areas of the cave that are not safe."

'There is something strange going on with that man,' Dr. Tomkins stated. "I can remember seeing what looked like pride being expressed whenever I would see him, pride in regards to Robin . . . but something has changed. He almost sounds . . . lost?' Then she thought of something else that she hadn't thought of before. 'This past year I remember hearing reports about Batman, but there was no mention about Robin. Even before that Robin would appear in the news, but not as often as he had before.' Seeing the prone young man made her realize that Robin wasn't a boy any more. He was almost as tall as Batman, maybe just a few inches shy. He certainly didn't have the man's bulk, but he was well built, more of an acrobat's body. When had the Boy Wonder grown into a man?

Dr. Tompkins moved over to her patient and checked his vital signs. His temperature was still elevated, but not as high as it had been. He should be coming out of the anesthetic very soon. It should only take about 30 minutes, but with the fever it could take longer than usual.

'I better add a fever reducer,' Dr. Tompkins thought. 'I wonder if Batman has something in his stores. He seems to be well equipped for any emergency.'

"I have brought you something to eat, Dr." Batman entered the room carrying a tray.

Dr. Tompkins eyes grew wide at the expensive looking silver. Just as she suspected, Batman has to have some kind of wealthy source or benefactor to be able to afford not only all the equipment but also the silver. The smells coming from the tray tantalized her nose.

Batman moved the tray over to the desk and lifted the lid. On the tray was a plate of tantalizing food, fresh steamed vegetables, some kind of roasted fowl, and a small dessert. There was also a glass of orange juice.

"Quite a healthy meal. Did you prepare this yourself?"

Batman didn't answer but went over to check on his sleeping partner. He brushed his gloved hand along the sleeping young man's forehead as if to test his temperature. It was more of a caress than an analytical touch. He could see his eyes darting around under the eyelids. The young man was dreaming. 'I just hope it isn't a nightmare. I've had too many of those. Who knows how many Dick's had in the past year due to my . . .'

"His temperature isn't as elevated as it was," Dr. Tompkins observed the gesture thinking that Batman was checking on his partner's vital signs. "Do you have a fever reducer? Something liquid."

"There's something in the cabinet over there on the far wall."

Dr. Tompkins walked over to the cabinet and opened one of the opaque glass doors. The cabinet contained several vials of different liquid medications, mostly painkillers and drugs to reduce inflammation. She found what she was looking for, took out a syringe, measured out an appropriate amount then added it to the IV.

"Normally, I would have given him a shot. The amount though is higher than I would normally prescribe. By placing it in the IV, it can be given slowly and his temperature will lower over time."

"You better eat something before it grows cold."

Dr. Tompkins sat at the desk and watched as Batman moved to the door.

"You won't be staying? He should be waking up soon."

"There is something I must work on," Batman said. "I should be right outside in the communications bay. Call me if you need anything."

Dr. Tompkins noticed that Batman hadn't mentioned his partner. 'Yes, there is something going on between them. Though I'm not a psychologist, I would say it was something that happened within the past year since Robin hadn't been mentioned or seen since last year. I have no right to pry though.'

While Dr. Tompkins worked on her meal movement from her only patient caught her attention. She moved over to the bed and placed her hand on his forehead. It was sweaty. The fever had broken somewhat. She pulled out an inferred thermometer and took his temperature. It was down below 102. Well, that was promising.

Robin's eyes fluttered open and then narrowed. He found himself in the surgical suite of the bat cave. What was he doing here? He reached up and noticed he was wearing not the costume he remembered, but an old familiar green glove. He vaguely remembered Alfred talking to him, something about his appendix, Dr. Tompkins, and the necessity of wearing his Robin gear.

"Well, Robin, it's about time you woke up. How do you feel?

"Weak . . ." Robin's voice came out as a whisper. "Thirsty."

"I'll see about getting you some ice chips. Wouldn't do you any good to drink something soon after surgery. It could upset your stomach. I'll be right back."

Robin watched Dr. Tompkins approach the door to the outside medical bay when suddenly it opened and Batman came into the room.

'Should have known he would have had some way of knowing,' Dr. Tompkins stated.

"Br . . . Batman," Robin stated though there was trepidation in his voice. The last time Robin had been in the cave though Batman didn't have the cowl on, was when he had ordered him out. He didn't know what kind of welcome he was going to receive.

Batman approached and looked down at his partner. He gave nothing away as to what he was feeling and yet there was something there that Robin picked up on.

'He's feeling guilty about something, but we're not alone,' He recognized that signal all too well. It meant be careful what you say. "So, what happened?" Robin asked, though his throat was still dry. "I remember discussing a case, but . . ."

"You collapsed from a fever."

"Batman and I had to remove your appendix," Dr. Tompkins spoke up.

"Did someone get the license number of the truck that hit me?" Robin asked.

Dr. Tompkins assumed Robin was making a joke. "Still a bit sore?" she questioned. "That will go away in time. I'll prescribe some painkillers with co-dine so you can sleep." Dr. Tompkins turned toward Batman. "Since he looks like he's on the mend and his fever is down, perhaps you can drop me off at my clinic. You can call me if there are any complications that develop, such as his fever suddenly spiking."

"I thought you were going to stay?"

"I have other patients I need to attend to and I trust your judgment if something should happen. And you know where to find me."

"That would be fine," Batman stated. "Will you be all right until I return?" Batman asked Robin.

"Uh . . . yeah . . . I guess . . . my throat . . ."

"Oh, the ice chips," Dr. Tompkins stated.

"I'll get you some," Batman stated then left the room and was back in within five minutes. He walked over to the bed and handed Robin a small container nearly overflowing with the cold chipped ice. He mouthed one word. "Alfred."

"Thanks," Robin stated, getting the message. As soon as Batman would leave with Dr. Tompkins, Alfred would be in to check on him.

"Don't go anywhere," Batman said as he left.

"I'm not planning on it," Robin countered back getting the message. He could read in Batman's voice that he meant what he said. Now he really felt nervous. Was Bruce still angry with him? Maybe he shouldn't stick around, but his body wasn't going to let him go anywhere. Robin noticed that Batman kept his shields down over his cowl's eye openings. He couldn't fully read Batman's emotions, but he was aware that something was wrong. Once he could hear the batmobile leave the cave and he knew that Batman was taking Dr. Tompkins back to her clinic, Robin removed the mask becoming Dick Grayson once more. He held the old mask in his hands, feeling its texture and weight. He missed it, but things had changed. He didn't know if he could return to wearing his old uniform. In some ways he was regretting returning home, but he had no choice. It was either return here or die out in the streets, and he wasn't ready for that.

"Master Richard?"

"Alfred," Dick responded.

"It is good to see you alert, young sir. Master Bruce was worried."

"Was he?" Alfred's words surprised him. "I didn't think he . . . cared . . ."

"Oh Master Richard, you should know that he still cares very deeply."

"Maybe," Robin gave out a big yawn, "How can a person feel tired even after sleeping through surgery?"

"That is a question left up to the experts," Alfred quipped. "Perhaps you had better rest. You will need time to recover."

Dick's eyes became heavy and soon he was falling asleep.

"Goodnight, Master Richard. I am certain things will look brighter in the morning."

As Dick fell asleep, Alfred added to the IV a dose of the prescribed painkiller and the fever reducer. He covered Dick with another blanket. He placed a hand on the young man's head then turned out the light.

"Pleasant dreams, Master Richard."

But Dick's dreams would be anything but pleasant.

Continues with Part 10


	10. No Escaping From the Past

A/N: I realized I hadn't added a title for this chapter. I added it here.

/

Between Father's and Sons

By

AJ

Part 10 – No Escaping From the Past

Exhaustion set in and Dick Grayson fell into a more natural sleep. His body would mend but his emotions were still in turmoil. The case that he stumbled upon had his mind reliving memories and those memories turned into nightmares that he hadn't had in years. It started with the circus. The ring master, Pop Haley made the introduction. He remembered as if it was yesterday. The crowd exploding with applause as he and his parents entered the big top and entered the ring, his father splitting off and climbing up the rope to the catcher's platform, he and his mother climbing the ladder to their platform. He remembered being nervous as he went first and his mother's words of encouragement.

"It's all right my little Robin. I'm right here with you. You've been practicing for months. You will do well."

And he did more than well. The quadruple death drop had rarely been accomplished. Only two others had done it, and they were adults. He would be the youngest to ever complete it. He followed his father's advice, closing his eyes and allowing his senses to do the work, letting him know when to reach out. His father's words also played in his head.

"Remember, when you are in that tuck, you're spinning too fast to see anything. If you try to look it will throw you off, so don't."

Feeling his father's hands connect with his, and the eruption of the audience as his performance, his part came to an end he felt an elation that he could not be describe. He stated to swing back toward the safety of the other platform, but instead he suddenly flies again and spins and as he drops toward the net, Dick stretched out his boy where he lands safely in the center. He moved to the edge and grabbing the net, Dick flipped to the ground. He gives the signal and the net is suddenly dropped to the ground. It would be the worst decision in his life, even though his parents had done their netless performance countless times, no one anticipated the ropes to break. And they did break, over and over again. He cried out, "NO! MOM! DAD!" but it did little good. They fell and landed with a resounding crushing blow that split them asunder, and the blood pouring out, over, and over again. The worst was seeing their eyes, the light that had been there, the pride, and the love, all gone in an instant. Never had he thought that love would ever be recaptured. In the silence of the recovery room tears streamed down Dick's face and silent sobs racked his body. The feeling of being alone crashed down on him.

Then from the blood rose up the image and the eyes of another, the self same eyes that understood and he didn't feel alone. He owed his life and had freely given his love, but the eyes grew cold and hard, the love that had been there, the pride, was once again lost, but the figure had not died, but simply turned his back.

"No, please, don't. I am dedicated, why can't you see that? Why? Please, don't turn away."

But the figure faded into the darkness leaving the young man to shiver in the cold. Dick tossed and turned and put his hands to his face and once again cried out his anguish. He was wishing this had all been a bad dream, but he knew that it wasn't. It was too much for the young man, too much. He couldn't bear to hear those cold eyes staring at him one more moment. Pulling the IV from his arm, the young man slowly, but shakily rose from the bed and once more tore the red vest from his body and the green gloves from his hands and dropped them on the floor. He stumbled out of the recover room, through the medical suite, and out into the medical bay in the cave. He continued to move through the cave where several vehicles were parked. The one vehicle he searched for through his misty eyes wasn't there. If it was he couldn't see it through his tears. His eyes landed on another, one he remembered well. It was now covered in dust. It had only been a few years since last he road in it, but it was now a thing of the past. He caressed the long black fender remembering.

'No, it's all gone,' he thought. 'I don't belong here any more. I should not have come. He probably won't help me now anyway. Death would have been preferable to this.'

The young man started to once again head down that tunnel that would lead him out into the night, not caring that blood once again started running down his leg. He would not get very far. Still in the garage, his legs refused to carry him further and though he fought to stay alert, his body once again betrayed him and he was falling, falling into the darkness away from the pain and the anguish and hopefully home to the two people he once loved.

/

Alfred Pennyworth was a man of great patience and fortitude. He appeared to be the perfect gentleman's gentleman with one exception. He was a man of deep feeling. He not only cared for the wellbeing of his charges, he loved them as family. To lose one would certainly break his heart, but to lose both would nearly destroy him completely. And yet for the sake of the world, he would carry on. And he certainly did carry on, 'though a bit sadder this past year,' he thought. And now, that a certain young man had returned he felt his spirit lighten just a bit. With a lighter heart, Alfred went down to check on his younger charge. It was about time to give the young master another round of the medications. It was also time to change his bandages. The poor boy had been through a lot within the past 36-48 hours. It was a wonder that he was alive. Alfred though recognized in the young man a strength of spirit that matched his other older charge. 'If only they weren't such stubborn mules,' he thought. 'Without the other . . .'

Alfred halted as he came into the recovery room, his eyes growing wide. Near panic set in when he saw the empty bed, the IV dangling without its owner, and the boy's uniform lying on the floor. He raced out into the main cave and to the communications bay. He was about to call his older charge when he heard the sound of the current batmobile pulling into the cave.

"Master Batman," Alfred said racing up to meet the caped crusader as he exited the car.

"Sorry I'm late, Alfred. I had to stop a robbery . . . What is it?"

Alfred realized he must have looked like a deer in the headlights, a clear giveaway that something was terribly wrong.

'Is Robin all right?"

'He's gone, Sir."

"Gone? How? Where?"

"I don't know," Alfred explained about going to check on him and found the bed empty.

"He couldn't have gotten very far. We better search the cave."

They found Dick lying not too far from the older batmobile that Batman had not driven for three years. His bandages were soaked with blood.

"He's torn his sutures.

Picking him up in his arms, Batman carried Dick back to the medical bay and the recovery room. They repaired his stitches and re-bandaged the area. Alfred reattached the IV and once again added the painkiller, antibiotic, and the fever reducer.

"It looks like he was trying to leave, but why Sir?" Alfred asked.

Batman went to the communications bay and typed a code into the keyboard. A video came up on the screen showing the recovery room. It was in night vision mode. For now they could see the young man just lying on his side as before. Batman backed up the video until he noticed Dick moving around in his sleep. He pushed up the volume on the sensitive hidden microphone that recorded every sound that was made. Dick's pleas and anguish cries came in clear as day.

"He was dreaming . . . a nightmare . . . about his parents. He hasn't had that dream for a long time. What would cause him to dream about that now?"

It was apparent that the nightmare changed with the cadence of Dick's voice, the anger and disbelief, and the hurt was palpable. It was clear that Dick's life over the past year had turned for the worst since . . .

'No, this is my fault,' Batman removed the cowl becoming Bruce Wayne. An arm rested on his shoulder.

"You must ask forgiveness," Alfred said. "It is the only way that both of you will find peace."

"How can I? I don't even know how to say . . ."

"He knows that," the Butler admonished. "When has there ever been a time when he had not known?"

You're right. There's never really been a need to express it. We've done it through our actions."

"Go to him," Alfred said. "You will find the words."

Once again, Alfred's wisdom hit Bruce to his very core. Remembering the feel of Dick in his arms as he carried him back to the recovery room, it felt right. Holding his son, his child, he could not help but want to comfort him and take away the pain he had caused. The year without his Robin by his side had thrown him into one of the darkest times of his life. He wanted to deny that he needed a partner, but how could he forget the years they had together. He just wasn't Batman he was also Bruce Wayne. It wasn't Batman that dried the tears of the ten-year-old boy when he cried out for his parents in the middle of the night. It had been Bruce Wayne. It wasn't Batman who held the boy's hand when he cried over a fallen nest of baby birds that he could not save. Or even when the boy was sick, it was Bruce Wayne who wiped his fevered brow. And the night, that horrible night for both of them, it wasn't Batman that was jealous with rage, for logic told him that Robin was the leader of the Titans just as he was the leader of the JLA. It was Bruce Wayne who was jealous of Dick Grayson, jealous at the fact that Dick Grayson didn't seem to need him any more. So, it was Bruce Wayne who reacted, Bruce Wayne who fired him, Bruce Wayne who rejected him, and it was Bruce Wayne who needed to fix . . . to ask forgiveness of his son.

Because, it was to Bruce Wayne Dick came to, asking for his help. Dick wasn't in costume, but if he didn't want Batman's help, then whose help did he want? And why was Dick having nightmares about his parents? Bruce remembered at that moment when Dick came to him in his study. He mentioned Newtown and the Haven and new designer drugs. Someone was behind it all. Dick must have stumbled onto something that had shaken him to his core. He tried to stop them, but instead, Dick had returned here. He knew he could get help, not just for the injury that had been done to him, but for whatever Dick had found out. He had to know. Bruce though had to shut away the Dark Knight, the Detective. His son didn't need him, didn't want him. He wanted Bruce . . . but what could Bruce do? For now, ask forgiveness of his son and help his son to heal. Then perhaps, they could go from there.

Bruce moved to the uniform vault. Pulling off his gloves, he walked inside. Within minutes Bruce Wayne had emerged fully dressed in a set of day clothes. He moved through the medical bay and surgical suite and into the recovery room. He took the chair by the desk and wheeled it over to the bed. This time, he didn't leave. He took his son's hand and held it, waiting. Soon his tears fell freely, remembering. And then his voice softly said, "Please, forgive me."

Continues with Part 11


	11. Confessions and Revelations

Between Father's and Sons

By

AJ

Part 11 – Confessions and Revelations

"Forgive me," Bruce whispered the words over, and over. Feeling them roll over on his tongue. The words were ones that he wasn't used to saying, but as he voiced them, the words became somehow easier. He still had a hard time saying three little words that he knew Dick has always wanted to hear. As he held his sleeping son's hand, a memory came unbridled in his mind. He should have recalled his mother's words so clearly before, but his mind had been so clouded with dark, possessive emotions, and there had been no one there to remind him that what he felt was beyond reason. His mother's words were clear in his mind now, clearer than they've ever been. He remembered the moment, but not fully the circumstance. The words, however, came crystal clear as if they waited for this very moment to be revealed.

"_If we cling too tightly what we hold in our grasp can slip from it like smoke. Do not cling so tightly that you do more harm than good."_

Bruce didn't quite understand back then. He had been five, but he was beginning to understand now, all too clearly. He had clung onto Dick like he was a piece of candy he did not want to share. He guarded him like gold, afraid that someone might steal him. He had clung so tightly, like smoke, before he knew it, his child had vanished and within that space and time, a young man appeared. And like the child, he threw a tantrum, not wanting what was set before him. Even Robin wasn't safe from his possessiveness, keeping him away from danger, even though he knew Robin could take care of himself. He remembered when it started. Ravek had kidnapped Robin, but rather than just ransom him, Ravek sent Batman on a twisted maddening chase, searching for Robin only to see him die, over and over only to learn that each one had been a dummy; until the last one. Robin, Dick had come so close to dying by just the width of a gold platter that ironically held the chopped off head of John the Baptist.

No, it went further back than that, it started on the day Dick entered his life. The boy worked his way into his heart and no matter how much he would deny it the boy would always be there, but the boy was now a man and somehow that happened within the blink of an eye.

'And I missed it,' Bruce chided. Tears formed in his eyes at just how much he lost over the past year. No the past three. With Dick away at Hudson University, he hadn't really seen the changes that had been taking place. The young man had grown in stature as well as in skill. He began to out pace his mentor, and yet he still held onto that boyish charm and playfulness that was the core of his nature. Bruce hadn't wept for what seemed like ages. Tears slowly tracked down his face without a sound, his eyes closing, trying to calm his troubled spirit.

Dick's eyes fluttered open, sensing that something was wrong. He felt his hand surrounded by another's and realized it was Bruce's hand. He looked up to see Bruce's face. His eyes narrowed. He had not seen his . . . mentor . . . guardian . . . father . . . he did not know what to call him. He settled simply on Bruce. He had not seen Bruce . . . crying? Why? Bruce hadn't cried in front of him for what seemed like ages.

"Bruce?"

Bruce's eyes opened at Dick's enquiry. He could hear the question in Dick's voice. 'Why are you crying?' Bruce licked his lips. Starting was the hardest part. Perhaps if he asked his own question that might get the ball rolling in the right direction.

"Why . . ." Bruce cleared his throat, thick with emotion. ". . .Why were you trying to leave?"

The question was direct and to the point. It was Bruce. Dick buried his face in the pillow, his voice partially muffled. "I . . . do . .n't . . . be . . . ong . . . ere."

"What"

"I don't belong here," Dick said a little more clearly. "Not any more."

"Oh Dick," Bruce sighed. "I . . . I'm sorry. You do belong here. This is your home."

"But you . . . you ordered me . . ."

"I know. I ordered you out of the cave . . . But I didn't order you out of the Manor."

"I couldn't stay. Not like that."

Silence grew between them and it was then that Bruce noticed the torn Robin vest lying on the floor. Alfred usually was far more meticulous when it came to being neat. 'He probably left it there on purpose,' Bruce thought. 'A reminder for what happened last year and is still hanging between us.'

He walked over to the vest and picked it up. He rubbed the Yellow "R" in the black circle, remembering when he actually wore the vest. It was strange. He created the uniform and wore it as a disguise while he spent time with one of the best detectives in the world. He was Dick's age, 15. But it was Dick who really brought Robin to life. He brought a gracefulness and light that was only matched by his darkness.

'When I tried to take Robin from him the first time, I didn't really know what I would be losing. I thought I was trying to protect him. I was wrong then. This time, I wasn't trying to protect him from some antagonist. I was the one who hurt him. And Dick was the one who tore out Robin's heart. How do we mend this?'

"Robin is dead," Dick said as he watched Bruce's actions when he picked up the uniform. "Let him rest in peace."

"Robin isn't dead," Bruce stated. "Batman still needs him."

"You fired me, that is Robin. There is no more Robin. I'm too old to play the part," Dick countered. "I'm not a kid any more. I'm not the BOY Wonder or even the TEEN Wonder . . . well not in a few weeks anyway."

Bruce looked up at that. He's forgotten that Dick had turned another year older without him. He was nineteen and he was soon turning twenty. "That's right. Your birthday is March 21."

"Yeah, what do you call a Robin who isn't a Robin any more?"

"I'd call him Son," Bruce said.

"What?" Dick's eyes narrowed. What was Bruce saying?

"Um, don't go away. I'll be right back."

"Don't go away? Is he kidding?" Dick lay back in the bed, his emotions warring with wanting to leave still and his curiosity to know what Bruce was talking about. He had a case to get back to. Since being here, several shipments of the new designer drugs had probably entered Gotham and he still needed to find out who was behind it all. He also remembered asking Bruce for his help but hadn't gotten an answer before everything went to hell.

Within moments, Bruce came back carrying a folder in his hands. He handed it to Dick then turned on a small reading lamp above Dick's bed so he could see the words more clearly. Dick read the date on the papers and started reading their content. While Dick read, Bruce explained.

"I wanted to surprise you, but well, the timing never presented itself. And next thing I knew, almost years had passed. I said some things to Alfred . . . never mind. They don't matter now. I owe him an apology, too. When we started on this path, I said to you that I didn't want to be a father . . . until Alfred pointed out to me . . . If you remember, we tried to go through the courts . . ."

"And they appointed you my guardian instead and I said I didn't need a father . . . But . . ."

"I don't know when everything changed . . . Maybe it was the day you first ran away," Bruce stated.

Dick flipped through the pages then asked, "So this is official?"

"Yeah, they finally agreed to it."

"I'm really Richard John Grayson-Wayne? And you're my . . ."

"Yeah . . . I'm your father. That is if you still want me."

"Oh Bruce," Dick began. "I know I said I didn't want a father, but I was just a scared kid. What I wanted was My father and I couldn't have him. And I didn't realize what I was missing out on. I didn't understand why you wanted me . . . for a son. I thought you only wanted . . ."

"Robin?" Bruce answered. "If you remember, it was you who insisted on taking an oath."

"Yeah, and I kept it, too," Dick pointed out.

'I know. I should have realized you would never break an oath, even if it was to a bunch of other misguided meta friends."

"Speedy isn't a meta, remember."

"Yeah well, don't hold it against me. But it was real hard watching you go off with the Titans."

"Not any harder than when you went off with the League," Dick pointed out.

"I guess we both have to work on some issues still."

"Well, I'd be willing to try if you are."

Bruce held out his hand and Dick took it. Bruce pulled his son in an embrace, one that he had not done since before Dick went off to college.

"OWWW!" Dick cried out.

"What?"

"I think I pulled a stitch. So, when can I get out of here?"

"Out of recovery?"

"No, out of this bed," Dick stated.

"Not until you are fully healed, Master Richard."

"Alfred? How long were you standing there?"

"Long enough," Alfred turned on his heals and walked back out of the recovery room and into the main bat cave. 'It is about time they reconciled. I was afraid I was going to have to lock them both in a room until doomsday.

Continues with Part 12 – Newtown and Blu[e]dhaven

A/N: As you can see, this is not the end of the story. Not by a long shot. You will notice the name of one of the towns. That is NOT an error. And it will be explained in the next chapter.

Reference: _How Many Ways Can a Robin Die_ Batman #246


	12. Newtown and Bludhaven

Between Father's and Sons

By

AJ

Part 12 –Newtown and Blu[e]dhaven

Three weeks later finds Dick Grayson in the Manor's private gym and weight room. The room was large and took up a two-story space. At one end were several weights, a punching bag, and some gymnastic equipment along with several mats. Years ago, a trapeze was placed in the room for a young circus performer who entered the household. That trapeze was in use today.

"Master Richard," Alfred said sternly. "You should not be doing your trapeze routine yet."

"Why not?" Dick questioned. "You removed the stitches yesterday. My energy is returning. I have to know what I'm capable of doing."

"You should be doing that in the cave so Master Bruce can keep an eye on you."

"I don't need a nursemaid, Alfred," Dick countered. "I am capable of assessing my own abilities." Dick let go of the bar and headed toward the second. He miscalculated and realized at the last minute that he was going to miss. He curled up into a ball and turned it into a flip. He was only able to flip twice cutting it close as he landed hard on the cushioned floor.

"Alfred is right. You should be doing that down in the cave," Bruce said.

". . . I have to go swim," Dick said abruptly, changing the subject and entering the nearby locker room.

Bruce could tell that Dick was still uncomfortable with going down into Batman's domain, despite the fact that Bruce had told him it was all right. Plus, learning about Jason Todd, Bruce could see that it had thrown Dick off kilter. Right now Dick wasn't talking. At times, it looked like Dick wanted to bolt, to disappear again, the hurt was that apparent, but with Dick not talking and his body still in healing mode, Bruce could sense Dick's frustration. The Manor was large, and Dick did his best to avoid Bruce at every opportunity.

'I wish he would come to me so we can deal with it," Bruce sighed. It was rough enough that Dr. Leslie Tompkins and Alfred wouldn't clear Dick for nighttime activities until he was sufficiently healed. Bruce could relate. When he would be angry, he'd take some of that frustration out on the thugs and criminals. Dick had no other way to deal with the anger and frustration. Bruce noticed the only area of the cave Dick would enter was the medical bay and the surgical suite otherwise Dick stayed in the Manor, either hiding in one of the many unused rooms, or going to the gym and the pool. It was as if his spirit was just as wounded as his body and his confidence deeply shaken. Something else happened within that year to cause Dick to become more cynical. His usual sunny disposition was filled with clouds. It wasn't something that Bruce was used to. And to have learned about Jason, that had to be a blow to his spirit as well.

'I probably shouldn't have told Dick about Jason yet,' Bruce thought. 'He was bound to find out about him sooner or later. It was probably better this way. I couldn't keep it a secret even if I tried. I've kept too many secrets from him already.'

Bruce followed Dick into the locker room and out to the pool. He watched his son swim laps after doing a near perfect trapeze routine. Now Dick was determined to swim as many laps as he could, but Bruce could see that Dick was quickly losing ground, becoming exhausted with each stroke. Bruce watched as Dick slowly climbed out of the pool to lie on his back on the concrete surface, panting.

"Why . . . can't . . . I . . . do . . . this?" Dick said out of breath. "I . . . would . . . swim . . . 50 laps . . ."

'Oh, I don't know," Bruce chided. "You've been wounded. Had your appendix out at the same time. Then you got a nasty flu. Not to mention you lost a lot of blood. It's going to take time."

"Dammit, I don't have time," Dick argued. "A lot of people are dying."

"Dick, talk to me," Bruce stated. "You've been trying to avoid me since . . ."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't lie to me or yourself," Bruce said. They both knew when the other person was lying. And Bruce knew because Dick would look away, trying to hide the emotions from his face.

"You destroyed my new crime fighting outfit."

"Is that what this is all about?" Bruce asked astounded. "Dick you lost a lot of blood. The costume wasn't usable."

"All right, I'll agree with you there," Dick conceded. "I've been meaning to ask you one thing. Why did you lie to me?"

"What?"

"Don't act dumb Bruce. You're a terrible liar. Why did you lie to me about Talia and Ra's al Ghul? I've been trying to catch up on old news. Didn't you trust my abilities? I WAS your partner. And a partner is supposed to watch your back. You went after him without me."

Bruce couldn't help notice how Dick stressed the word WAS. "You're right. After what happened the last time . . ." Bruce hesitated. "I couldn't ask you to risk your life. After what he tried to do to you and Selina . . ."

"Is there anything more?" Dick coaxed.

"That was also during the time when the adoption came through. I couldn't risk losing you."

"Because now I was your heir," Dick said a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"Truth be told . . . The moment you entered this house Dick, you became my heir. I had no children and the life I was leading up to that point . . . Alfred would have been the one to inherit everything if something happened to me, but he didn't want that. He said he was too old and I needed someone who was . . . Dick . . . I'm not good with this. Just remember, you have always been my son whether I had adopted you or not. I know I said I wouldn't be a father to you . . . but I was wrong. I just wanted to make it official."

"What about Jason? How does he fit in?" The jealousy that Dick felt earlier when he learned about Jason faded to a dull ach in the pit of his stomach. The thought of Jason becoming Robin still rankled him. No, it did more than rankle him it hurt. At the same time, he had to admit to being too old to wear pixie boots and shorts. 'At least Bruce gave me a longer cape at one point.'

He could not help recalling one other time when Bruce had told him that they were threw. He had almost forgotten that memory. It was sometime after he turned nine. He and Bruce had been living in temporary lodging while the Manor was being painted. Bruce had packed his clothes, leaving Dick behind. What hurt the most was when Bruce pushed his things off the desk, along with his picture, saying they were junk. And when Bruce left, leaving money behind all Dick could think about were the times he and Batman fought at each other's side. There were times he even saved Batman's life. But what hurt was he thought that Bruce didn't like him any more or that Robin was getting too popular. So, he ran away to prove he could take care of himself, leaving with only the clothes on his back. The most shocking truth of all was when he saw Batman swinging through the air and then he saw what was another boy swinging right behind him. It devastated him inside, but in the end, it was all a lie, a lie to protect him from being killed by the Thumb. Bruce, Batman still wanted him, still needed him, but now, Dick still wasn't so sure. He wanted to . . . had to learn what Bruce was thinking. Who was Jason Todd and why was he in the Manor, training? He knew that Jason was training to be Robin, but was Bruce thinking of replacing him as a son as well?

'That doesn't make any sense, if Bruce has gone to all that trouble to adopt me. Why would he bring a kid . . .' Bruce's words cut into his own thoughts.

'Still worried and jealous?' Bruce thought. He could see the look in Dick's eyes and he knew Dick needed reassurances. "I'm his mentor, nothing more."

"You're not planning on adopting him?" Dick asked.

"He has one parent, his mother," Bruce explained. "I don't think he needs or wants another."

"How good is he?"

"He needs a lot of work, though he does have some natural athletic ability. To be honest, I was hoping you might be able to help with his training."

"Me?" Dick was surprised at that. Though he couldn't help thinking that it felt like the old Robin was training his replacement. It didn't make him feel very good.

"He needs to learn acrobatics. Though I doubt he could ever match your skill level."

"I don't know . . ."

"Let me tell it to you straight. Everyone has noticed that Robin hasn't been around this past year. There have been a lot of rumors, and some of them very disturbing."

"You want me to put on . . . " There was a light in Dick's eyes that hadn't been there, then the light faded. "You fired me . . . remember," Dick whispered. "I'm no longer Robin."

"Dick, it's okay. I know I can never take back what I said, but I need to face the fact that you've grown up. You've created your own secret identity, and maybe it's time to pass that mantle onto someone else."

"Really? I . . ." Secretly, Dick wanted Bruce to ask him to be Robin again, and yet, didn't he just admit that he was too old? Maybe Bruce was right. Maybe it was time to pass on the mantle. It could be like a legacy. "I mean, you won't be upset if I . . ."

"How can I." Bruce stated. "To be honest a couple of members of the JLA didn't think you'd last out the year, that you would be killed."

Dick's eyes grew wide at that, then they narrowed, "But I didn't die."

"No, you didn't. You beat the odds," Bruce said. There was a hint of pride in his voice that hadn't been there in some time. "So, what are you calling yourself?"

"NIghtwing," Dick stated.

"Now I have a question for you. Where did you go?"

Dick's eyes lowered, not wanting Bruce to see the amount of pain that was still in his eyes. "I . . . wandered . . . went . . ."

"Went where?" Bruce coaxed.

"Florida. Remember me telling you that my parents had a small house. I went there to clear my head. Then I went to the Watch Tower. It had the materials to create my new costume."

"Then the Titans know about your new secret identity."

"Yeah, but . . . things didn't work out."

"What happened?" Bruce's words were gentle and encouraging.

Dick missed hearing it and he couldn't help feel the sting of tears forming in his eyes, or was it the water dripping from his wet hair. He couldn't tell. He was starting to shiver.

Bruce took notice and placed a very large thirsty towel over his son's wet shoulders. He waited patiently for Dick to answer his question. He didn't have long to wait.

Dick explained what happened, and Bruce visibly cringed. "Cyborg blamed me for Starfire's death. Truth be told, I screwed up, but it wasn't totally my fault either. They wouldn't listen and Starfire paid the price. Then everyone turned their backs. I went to see Uncle Clark afterward and he let me stay for a while, but kept insisting that I talk to you. I guess I wasn't ready." Dick didn't elaborate on the feelings of rejection, but mentioned instead. "I went to visit my parents grave site and then that's when I started hearing about the new designer drugs in Newtown. I also heard rumors that Blue Haven was somewhat involved as well. I went there. The place Bruce, you just won't believe it. In some respects it's worse than Gotham. It used to be such a nice port town."

"Oddly enough I do remember. My parents owned a sailboat and I remember we would sail up to Blue Haven in the summer. The last time we did that was the summer before they died."

"Well, get this. They're calling the place Blood Haven, only it's spelled with a U with two dots over it. They crossed out the E and added a "D," rewrote it on the welcome sign."

"So, you think the drugs are coming from Newtown and Bludhaven?" Bruce asked using the new name for the old town.

"I'm not sure. All I know is the truck I followed came from Newtown. It was heading to Gotham. I tried to stop it before it reached the river. A bullet ricocheted off the bridge. That's how I got hurt. I knew I wouldn't make it back to where I was living so I came here."

"You are living in Bludhaven now?"

"Not exactly," Dick answered.

"You're in Newtown."

Dick didn't answer but said instead, ". . . I thought I'd investigate there first and find out who was behind the distribution. They may even have a lab there. I was hoping to shut it down."

"You asked for my help," Bruce reminded Dick.

"Yeah, I guess I did.

Bruce put a hand on his son's shoulder. "You've got it. When do we start?"

Continues with Part 13 – Dying to Get High

A/N: Reference: Batman No. 13 Oct/Nov issue _The Batman Plays a Lone Hand! _Many of the classic Batman can be purchased from DC Comics online. You can purchase a digital copy that can be read on an iPad.


	13. Dying to Get High

Between Father's and Sons

By

AJ

Part 13 – Dying to Get High

Thirty-eight mysterious deaths had been reported, deaths that weren't natural. The look on each person's face looked like they had been scared to death. The autopsies reveal an unrecognizable toxin. Within each of the victim's pockets was a small vial. The vial contained a liquid, a liquid that on the streets the drug community was calling it the Heavenly Brew. It had a blue hue and had a scent like lilacs and tasted like candy. It was highly addictive. Only a few drops on the tongue were enough to bring on the hallucinations and the feeling of euphoria. Any more and the pleasant hallucinations became terrible and dark, so terrible that a person could literally be frightened to death. Dick Grayson knew that the drug came from somewhere in Newtown, he just wasn't quite sure where. Nothing had been seen like it for the past ten years, ten years to the day, the day the Graysons died. It would bring Dick Grayson closer to his past than he would ever suspect.

Dick Grayson watched as Jason Todd went through his paces. He did several tumbles on a matt then used the pommel horse. He then moved off to the rings, but he was soon getting tired. Jason looked like he was trying to run a marathon and failing.

"Not so fast Jason, you'll wear yourself out. I didn't become Robin in a day. What's the hurry?"

Jason gave Dick a frown. "I just want to be able to help Batman as soon as possible.'

"Have you looked at those files that Batman set aside for you to read?"

"Why should I? I'm not going to be asking crooks for their resumes."

Dick smirked at the comment, but Jason needed to learn a little more respect. Crime fighting wasn't all about the fighting. It was the victims who deserved justice. "Look, Batman told me when I was your age that you need to know everything about crime fighting, including about the criminals. You have to know their M.O.s, such as Slick Fingers. I bet you can't tell me what he does and how he operates."

"Why should I know that junk? All I care about is being able to catch them . . . And give them what they deserve."

"Because you're not always going to catch them in the act," Dick responded while ignoring Jason's last comment, which disturbed him greatly. "Now Slick Fingers likes to rob safes and he uses a chisel to break into them. His tell tale marks are crisscrossed markings from the chisel. If you ran across an open safe and the money gone, you would have to know how that safe was opened and who opened it. You would also learn that Slick Fingers is an alias. His real name is George Collins."

Jason gave a sour look toward Dick. "Were you always the golden boy?"

Dick didn't answer Jason's sarcastic question but continued with trying to get Jason to do what lessons Batman had set aside for him.

"Jason, I can understand that you're here during the week for only a couple of days and only for a few hours. You also have your regular homework. I suggest you do that if you're not going to go through those files."

"I did my homework," Jason protested. 'And you're not my father. I don't have to do as you say.'

"Hmm, let me see it," Dick requested.

"Why?" Jason narrowed his eyes.

"Let me see it, please."

Jason went over to his backpack and pulled out a sheet of paper. The paper was filled with scratch marks.

"Jason, you can't turn your homework in looking like that."

"I can't help it . . . I . . . I . . . I don't know how to read very well."

"What?" Dick was astounded. How did Jason manage to keep Bruce from finding out that his grades and his homework were in bad shape?

"Dick, please don't tell Bruce. He'll be mad at me. I stopped going to school after my Mom got sick."

"Look, I won't tell him if you and I sit down and do it together we can get this cleaned up, but you have to go through those files."

"How can I when I can't read. All the words keep jumping around. Everybody says I'm dumb."

"Jason, I don't think you're dumb. You just need to focus."

At that moment, Bruce came down to the cave carrying the latest stack of newspapers, one of them from the Newtown News.

"Dick, we need to talk," Bruce said. "Jason, are you done reading those files I gave you?"

"Uh . . . not yet Bruce. I'm going to have to go home soon. It's almost 7:00."

"You're right. You can finish reading some more of them tomorrow."

Dick watched Jason as he packed up his backpack and headed toward the steps leading up to the Manor.

"That kid needs an attitude adjustment," Dick pointed out.

"How so?" Bruce asked absentmindedly.

"Every time I try to help him, he acts like I'm the enemy."

"Jason's not like you, Dick. He came from a different background."

"Yeah, well . . ."

"He's a smart kid. He picks things up quickly."

"Not when it comes to his book learning," Dick stated.

"What do you mean?"

Not to sound condescending Dick changed the subject, "What do you want to talk about?"

"There were two more drug related death in Gotham last night."

"Same situation?"

"Yes, and each person had an empty vial in their pocket."

Dick shook his head. "I should have stopped that truck when I had the chance."

"If you had, you and I would not be standing here talking, and I would have lost my only son." Bruce placed a comforting hand on Dick's shoulder.

"Those deaths could have been prevented."

"What did I teach you about dwelling on past events," Bruce chided his son good-naturedly.

"Look what you can resolve in the present." Dick replied, nodding, knowing that Bruce was right. "But only if you take your own advise." It felt good to once again be on the same page as his . . . father once more. He missed it. Hell, he missed Bruce.

"Duly noted," Bruce replied with a slight twinkle in his eyes, just for Dick. They both know it was harder to accomplish than taking down the Joker. "What do you think should be our next course of action?"

"You asking me?" Dick was astounded by that question.

"Well, it's your case. You started with it. And even if the drugs are ending up in Gotham, it may take both of us to solve it."

Neither noticed that a figure clad in a light jacket with a hood and carrying a backpack had stopped on the steps when his name was mentioned.

"I think if Nightwing and Batman were to show up, the rats involved will only scurry back into the darkness. I think this calls for Matches Malone and a certain news boy who hasn't been seen in Newtown for a while."

"Aren't you too old to be playing the part of a newsboy?"

"We could ask Jason to do it. I know he's been biting at the bit."

Bruce knew that Dick was right, because of his observational skills, even when he first came to the Manor, and maybe Jason could do it, except, "He's not ready," Bruce said. "You at least had six months of training, and you were all ready disciplined when it came to following orders and doing the legwork that was required. He'll get his chance, just not right now."

The figure on the stairs frowned. 'I am too ready,' Jason thought. 'I'm as good as Grayson . . . that golden boy. Thinks he knows everything.'

"Matches Malone?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah. Find out where they're manufacturing the stuff. Maybe even get inside and learn where they plan on going elsewhere."

"And what will you be doing?"

"I'll see about getting a sample of the stuff to break down, see if we can manufacture an antidote, even for ourselves. We don't want to get caught with any of that drug in our systems. We don't even know if the universal drug antidote will work."

"Get more than just a single sample. It may take several tries."

"Maybe Matches can learn who's behind it all."

"Good point," Bruce said. "We better get ready."

'And I better get ready, too," Jason said. "I'll just let my Mom know I'm going to stay over. Luckily tomorrow is a school holiday. I'll just have to hide then I'll follow them later. I'll show Bruce that I'm a lot more ready than Golden Boy was when he became Robin. Then Bruce will let me wear that costume.'

Continues with Part 14 — A Spy Among Us


	14. The Spy Among Us

Between Father's and Sons

By

AJ

Part 14 — The Spy Among Us

Dick Grayson watched as Bruce Wayne put on his Matches Malone make-up then changed into some clothes that looked like they've seen better days. He then went over and picked out a run down vehicle that looked the same as Bruce's clothes, but both knew that the vehicle had extra gadgets hidden in the dash and that the engine, though it sounded like it was on its last legs, it was just as sound as the batmobile.

"You're going to have to wait for my signal to know where they are manufacturing the drug. As soon as I know, I'll let you know. It could take a couple of days. Keep an eye on Jason. Don't let him know where I've gone."

Bruce got into the passenger side, opened the glove box and pulled out a small box. He replaced his regular watch with one that was a more plain in its appearance. Besides being just a watch, it was a two-way wrist radio. It had two buttons, one for recording conversations, and one to call. After exchanging watches, he handed Dick his regular wristwatch as he moved toward the driver's side.

"Before you go, I have a question. Didn't you tell me that Matches Malone died?"

"Yes, but I have a contingency for that," Bruce replied.

"So, Malone isn't dead," Dick commented.

"Not by a long shot. He's one of my favorite characters," Bruce winked. "I'll keep in touch."

B. W. "Matches" Malone arrived in Newtown. The place had changed and had grown into a small city in its own right. Oddly enough there were a couple of faces that Matches had spotted that looked familiar.

'They must have moved from Gotham to get away from the crime,' he thought. 'Too bad they didn't move far enough."

Matches drove around looking for a place to plant his weary body and to see what action he could find. He saw two people standing in a doorway both looked suspicious. He caught the exchange of money and something else. Could it be a small vial?

'Within a few days, that person could very well be dead,' he thought. 'I can't save them,' he regretted. 'I'd blow my cover. ' Though the dealer might just be the very person he needed to get him inside the operation. Matches tried to memorize what the guy looked like so he could try to find him later. Matches' next move was to find a local rooming house or hotel and get a room, preferably within the same area as the drug dealer.

Matches spotted a small house that was stuck between two commercial buildings. It looked like it was being squeezed, as if the buildings were trying to take over the remaining space and the house was the last holdout of a bygone era. A small sign declared it as a Bed and Breakfast – Cheap. It was just the place that Matches was looking for.

Matches Malone parked his car out front and walked up to the door. The place was open and it even had a vacancy. He walked up to the reception window, a split door where the top half could open while the bottom stayed locked in place. He rang the small bell to catch the attention of the proprietor. A woman about Dick's height and age came into view. She had a nose stuck in a book. That book must have been good since it kept her attention until the very last minute. When she finally lowered it Matches Malone was staring into the greenest eyes he had ever seen. They were like fresh young leaves on a spring day. They were the kind of eyes even Bruce Wayne would appreciate.

'Careful, Wayne," Matches thought. 'She's too young for you. Though Dick might like her.'

"May I help you?"

"Uhm, yeah, I could use a room."

The young woman gave Matches a slight smirk. It would seem she's had someone stare at her before. She finds it amusing.

"It's $40.00 a night and breakfast is served from 7:00 to 10:00. How long will you be needing the room?"

"Don't know. Could be as long as a week or two."

The young woman's eyes grew wide at that. "No one stays in this part of town for long. I'm going to need the money in advance."

Sounds like someone has been ripping her off. Skipping out and not paying. "Sure." Under the guise of Matches Malone, Bruce Wayne was grateful he at least brought enough cash to cover the week. He at least could eat breakfast then rely on other methods to get meals if he needed. He usually didn't eat that much when he was working on a case. As the playboy, he was expected to attend lavish parties, be bored, and be an expert on fine wines and food. His body required a certain amount of nutrition to keep in shape. As Matches Malone, even he had to keep up appearances.

"Where should I park my car?" Matches asked.

"In the back. Just follow the narrow drive to the right of the B & B. Here's your room key. It's on the second floor and in the back."

"Thanks," Matches replied. "Are there any more guests besides me?"

"There are two. You may see them at breakfast."

"Where's breakfast served? Or can I take it in my room?"

"You can take it in your room if you wish. The dining room is here on the first floor across the hall."

As Bruce, he would have surmised that since there were two double doors across the hall from the reception desk that were curtained and closed and the room was dark.

"Thanks again," Matches gave the girl a wink then left to park his car. Once he parked the car he called the bat cave.

"Rob . . . Nightwing," The name felt strange on his tongue. He had to check himself remembering that Dick had a new identity.

"Nightwing here."

"I found a base of operation," Matches gave Nightwing the address and room number. "Get me as much information on the proprietor. Also meet me here tomorrow as the newsboy. We'll go over any details with locating their main manufacturing facility."

"Gotcha. Nightwing out."

Matches pressed a button and a panel opened under the dash. He pulled out a small piece of equipment and placed it in his coat pocket. He closed the hidden panel and pressed the button again to lock it in place. He then popped the trunk and exited the car. After locking the doors and grabbing his suitcase and closing the trunk, he headed into the B and B by way of the back entrance. He took the stairs to the second floor and found the room number. Checking around the hallway first, he put the key into the lock and opened the door and went inside.

It was a pretty large room. There was a queen-sized bed and a sitting area with a small table. It had a homey touch. The cover on the bed looked like it was made by hand.

'Alfred would appreciate this room.'

A knock came on the door that Matches didn't expect.

"Who's there?"

"Housekeeping," it sounded like the young woman who was the receptionist.

Matches opened the door to see the same young woman who checked him in.

"I brought you some clean towels. Your room is the only one with a separate bath."

"I appreciate that. I may have a visitor or two and I wouldn't want to disturb the others. So, can you tell me about them?" Matches asked, trying to warm up to the girl, though she seemed rather put off. 'Dick might have been better at this. I don't know how he does it. Must come from his days as a performer.'

The girl gave him a deer in the headlights look at first.

"The other guests," Matthew coaxed. "I like to know my neighbors."

The girl turned then suddenly shut the door. The act put Matches on edge and yet the look on the girl's face was one of sudden fear and concern.

"You don't want to know your neighbors, Mr. Malone. I try to stick to my own business. I got curious once and my brother paid with his life. This town's changed. My brother told me when a certain mob boss ruled here, that mob boss' last act I heard was to have a family of circus performers killed when the circus was visiting here. It was rumored that someone by the name of Batman stopped him. Then for a while things became peaceful and everyone hoped we could just go on with our lives."

"Why are you telling me this?" Matches asked, though the man under the disguise was pleased that the girl was revealing information that he didn't expect he would get.

"You're not like the others. I can see it in your eyes."

"So, what happened?"

"All I can say is be careful who you talk to. And if you hear any rumors about a certain mob boss returning, believe them. Only be careful. From what I heard, he's worse than ever."

"What's your name?"

"Candice. Candice Merryweather."

"Well Candice, I'll take your advice, the part about being careful," Matches gave her a slight smile. "Do me a favor. I'm expecting some news to arrive. Can you send the newsboy in when your see him."

"The newsboy?" Candice asked. "I don't understand."

"Let's just say stories have a way of revealing the truth. And if I miss my guess, we're in for quite a ride."

Continues with Part 15 – The Past Comes Forward


	15. The Past Comes Forward

Between Father's and Sons

By

AJ

Part 15 – The Past Comes Forward

"Thanks for the towels," Matches Malone made it loud and clear that was the reason for Candice to be there just in case someone was listening. He had been lucky. The moment Candice shut the door he turned the device on inside his pocket. It masked and even distorted sound as well as any bugging devices that might be in the room. On the edge the voices would sound muffled, even if you came within two feet. It was something that Bruce knew that Matches Malone could use to his advantage. What he didn't expect to learn caused his heart to grow cold.

The reference was all too clear. He couldn't let his son know, but how could he not. Then again, it could only be a rumor, but how do you figure on the fact that the first half of that rumor was true?

Matches Malone aka Bruce Wayne set the masking device on top of the borough. To any observer, it would look like a small alarm clock, except it had no face. He placed the suitcase in the closet. He didn't want to unpack unless his first day here was a bust.

'Now that Matches has officially moved in, I can concentrate on my next step and that's finding out who's making that drug and where. And I know just the place.'

Matches Malone headed to the local watering hole where he first spotted the drug dealer and his mark. The bar was two doors down from where he spotted the deal; but still close enough to the event that it could be a regular meeting place. It could be enough just to wait and see what comes out of the woodwork.

Matches took out his trademark and placed it between his teeth. He moved up to the bar and pounded the surface.

"Give me a beer," he announced rather loudly.

The bar tender placed the requested glass in front of the man then stated, "You're not from around here."

"Just moved into the neighborhood. Look'in for a friend of mine. Said he might be able to find me some interest'in work."

"What's your friend's name. If he's a regular customer. I might know him."

"Tony Zee," Matches replied as he watched the man's reaction behind his façade of a grin.

"Tony Zee? Never heard of him."

Years earlier, when the Graysons were murdered, Batman learned that Tony Zee had been one of Zucco's aliases. He was hoping that someone might bite. Out of the corner of his eye, Matches spotted the drug dealer coming in his direction.

"Couldn't help but over hear. You looking for Mr. Zee?"

"Who are you?"

"Names Carson, one of Mr. Zee's associates."

"Yeah, you've seen Tony?"

"Don't know anyone by the name of Tony."

'Uh oh. Hope I haven't tipped my hand.' Matches thought.

"I do know a Ralph Zee," Carson commented.

"Maybe I'm thinking of his brother," Malone improvises. "Haven't heard from him in ages."

"Haven't you heard? Tony Zee bought the farm ages ago. Up at the big house. It was rather sudden and quite shocking."

'Looks like I found my man," Malone thought. "Oh that's such a shame. You see he promised me a job if I ever showed up in this part of the country."

"What line of work were you interested in?" Carson asked.

"Distribution and collection."

"We could probably use another driver. Our last driver got a little careless with some of our merchandise. Had to deep six him if you will. It was really a shame. He'd make the run into Bludhaven in record time."

"Record time?" Malone asked.

"We have a friendly wager among the drivers. Whoever gets to either Gotham City or Bludhaven fastest gets a nice bonus."

"What kind of cargo you carrying?"

"Oh just a little something for our regular customers. You interested?"

Matches took the match in his teeth and lit it with his thumb. He then snuffed it out with nothing more than the flick of his finger. "You got yourself a driver."

"Meet me at this address."

The dealer handed Matches a card. The card said _Zee's Import Export Unlimited._

"What time?"

"9:00 pm."

"That's an odd hour."

"We like to do our shipping overnight."

"Will I get to meet Mr. Zee?" Malone asked. "I'd like to give my condolences."

"You might," The dealer stated. "He'll be inspecting one of our manufacturing facilities before hand."

Malone wasn't surprised to learn there was more than one location. It added to the danger of knowing which location was the best one to penetrate. And it would seem after doing some time in prison Ralph Zucco was following in his brother's footsteps. Of course he couldn't be sure, not without laying his eyes on the man directly.

'I'm surprised he hadn't gone after Dick a second time. Maybe he thought revising his brother's drug trafficking trade was a lot safer than going after Bruce Wayne's kid.' Malone took a second glance at the card. "So this address is one of the locations?"

"Naw," Carson stated. "That's Mr. Zee's private estate. He likes to interview new people personally. Afterward, you'll be given instructions on where to pick up the goods and which run you'll be making. That is if he likes you. He might have other plans for you."

"One other question," Malone stated. "I understand Mr. Zee's very generous the way his brother was."

"Oh he's generous all right. He'll reward all his associates just what they deserve."

'And if they double cross him . . .' Matches didn't have to know what that meant. Tony Zucco was just as ruthless as they come. His biggest mistake was to leave a ten-year-old boy without a mother and father. 'Perhaps I better let Dick know of this latest development. If something should happen to me, he's going to have to see that Ralph Zucco gets the electric chair, just like his brother.'

Matches Malone gave the dealer a crocodile grin then stated, "I'll be there."

/

Matches went back to the B and B. The young girl wasn't around. He wanted to see if he could get more information out of her. Instead he went to his car. Opening the trunk he pushed a hidden button and a compartment opened up. He pulled out a laptop then closed the compartment. Taking his laptop up to his room, he set it down on the small table. He moved over to the borough and pressed a button on the masking device. The device would now act as a secure wireless channel. The computer had an untraceable IP address as well and was hooked up to the bat cave's main computer.

Matches Malone typed in the security code. It was more than 20 digits long and consisted of numbers and symbols not normally used in a security code. Once in he began his inquiry about Ralph Zucco.

Bruce remembered the day Dick ran away to visit his parents grave in Newtown. It has been a year since their deaths. He hadn't been around Dick very much at that time, despite the fact that he had been training the boy down in the cave. He had tried to stress to Dick how important it was that he get his anger under control so he wouldn't make mistakes like he did the last time. Dick was an apt student and he eventually did get his anger under control, but what Bruce didn't know was that the boy needed him more than he needed Batman at the time. And when Dick had run away, falling ill and being taken by Ralph Zucco, it had nearly torn Bruce up inside. He hadn't realized within that past year, just how fond of the boy he had become.

The boy that he took in was now a man, a man to be proud of, and Bruce did find himself swelling with pride, though he tried to keep that hidden as much as possible. He had found that showing too much emotion could get someone killed. He found that he missed having that partnership, even though he said at first that he didn't want to have another partner. And yet, he took Jason in, trying to teach him the error of his ways, especially after the cheeky kid nearly succeeded in stealing the batmobile's tires. With that incident, he would have to see about redesigning the batombile to protect it better. Giving Jason the opportunity to become the new Robin or ending up in juvie, hadn't been in his thoughts at first. He just hoped he hadn't made a mistake.

Bruce sat up straighter when he finally found what he was looking for. Ralph Zucco had been released from prison six months ago for good behavior. He hadn't put it past the guy. Ralph Zucco seemed to also have a way with words to charm others. Bruce looked for a more recent image of the convict, but there was none. He would have to rely on his own memory for now. He looked enough like his older brother that they could have been mistaken for each other. And if Ralph Zucco was running the show, he would soon regret it. Though Newtown wasn't Batman's jurisdiction, it was close enough to Gotham to warrant Batman's interest. Newtown needed cleaning up, and now's the time as any to make certain that it was.

Continues with Part 16– Tracking the Dark Knight


	16. Tracking the Dark Knight

Between Father's and Sons

By

AJ

Part 16 – Tracking the Dark Knight

Jason Todd stayed in the shadows after making contact with his mother.

"It's okay Mom," Jason said. "I don't have any school tomorrow. In fact, I think Tuesday is also a student holiday. Is it okay if I stay here with Bruce? He said I could work on catching up on my studies. He said he'd help me." Silence for a moment. "I will Mom. I'll see you Tuesday night."

With that arranged, Jason once again went to the cave, this time staying in the shadows of the stairs as he listened to Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne discuss their plans. So, Bruce is going in disguise and Dick will be waiting.

'I've got to find a way to follow Bruce," Jason thought.

If he was careful, he might be able to grab a few things from the make-up table and some old clothes. But how was he going to get to Newtown? He remembered seeing a small motorbike just his size and painted in Robin's colors. It was covered with a clear plastic dust cover. It would be perfect, but he would have to be careful with removing the plastic cover without making a sound. He didn't even know if the bike would run. He would have to check the fuel gage. Plus, he wouldn't be able to start it without alerting Dick, the golden boy of crime fighting.

"I bet he's never snuck out," Jason smirked.

First he needed to get that make-up then decide against it instead. His eyes fell on the glass case. He decided to grab something else. It wasn't that hard to grab what he wanted and where it was placed, it would be hard to spot. The next step would be even harder, securing transportation.

Jason watched for an opportunity for Dick to leave the cave, but Dick wasn't about to leave any time soon. Jason had to scramble away from the stairs when Alfred appeared. He was carrying a tray of sandwiches and coffee.

"For you Master Richard," Alfred stated.

"Thanks Alfred."

"Have you heard from Master Bruce?"

"No, not yet," Dick answered. "How did you know that Bruce was gone?"

"I can see the make-up table and saw what it was that Bruce left behind.

"His key to the batmobile."

"He always leaves his key there until he returns."

"Good observation Alfred," Dick commented. "I almost forgot that. I hope Bruce is all right." Despite everything they've been through, neither of them wished any ill will to befall the other.

"Master Bruce should be fine. It will not be long until you hear from him. You should eat something. I shall make certain that Master Jason's room is ready."

"I thought Jason had gone home."

"He asked to stay. It is a school holiday and he could get some extra practice in."

"Good," Dick replied. 'If all goes well, maybe I can help him with his reading and getting those criminal files read. He's got a lot to learn. Though I think I'll see what I can learn about him as well.'

Jason watched Dick grab a sandwich from the tray and a cup of coffee. His own stomach started to growl. 'Maybe I better get something to eat first,' he thought.

"Come Master Jason, your dinner is ready."

Jason's eyes became wide. How did Alfred even know he was there?

At the computer Dick didn't turn his head, but gave a sideways grin. He'd hidden in that space in the past, and always Alfred and even Bruce knew where to find him. Something about the acoustics made it easy for someone to hear slight noises.

Jason started to follow Alfred up the stairs. He would have another opportunity. He just had to be patient, which wasn't his strong suit.

'Perhaps a little later,' Jason thought. 'I'll have to watch when golden boy leaves. Or maybe there just might be another way.'

"Master Jason?"

"Coming Alfred," Jason said. "By the way, what did you make for dinner?"

Alfred listed off several tantalizing items as they ascended the stairs and into the Manor. It wasn't long until Jason was once again descending the stairs, this time wearing a dark hooded jacket. He checked for Dick in the communications bay and found it was empty.

'I told Alfred I was going to my room to study. That might keep him from discovering that I'm gone. Grayson must be taking a break,' Jason surmised. 'That's the break I need.'

Jason ran into the garage space and removed the cover off of the small motorbike. He checked the fuel gage and discovered it was ready to go. Of course it would be ready. All of Batman's vehicles were in tiptop shape just in case they were required. Now it was a simple task of taking it down the tunnel and out the cave.

Once outside, Jason started the motorbike and headed down the dirt road to the highway. He turned north and headed to Newtown. Without the bike it would have taken him all night to get there. With the bike, getting to Newtown was a cinch. Now all Jason had to do was find . . . What did Bruce call the guy? Matches Malone?

'Well 'Matches Malone' will be getting a real surprise. He'll be getting a visit from his son. Then maybe together we can stop those drugs from reaching other places and give those crooks what they deserve.'

The problem, Jason had no idea where to find Bruce. All he had to go on was his alias, Matches Malone.

/

Alfred, was always conscientious of his charges and their need for sleep. Before he would sleep he always made certain that his charges were safely tucked in their beds, even if it meant sitting up until three in the morning. In that instance Alfred became the dutiful parent waiting for his children to come safely home. For now, Alfred was performing another parental duty making sure two of his charges were taken care of. With Master Richard it was to make certain that he had enough to eat. Just like his oldest charge, Master Richard would forget to eat when he was deep in his nighttime activities. His second charge was still a child and needed as much rest as possible until that time when he, too would be out and about with his mentor.

As Alfred walked down the hall, he spied the light coming out from under Master Jason's bedroom door. Despite the fact that he had been informed that Master Jason had no school in the morning and his mother agreed to allow Jason to spend the night, Alfred was a strict disciplinarian when it came to bedtime.

"Master Jason," Alfred said as he knocked on the door. "Isn't it about time to turn out the light?"

No answer came from within the room.

'Perhaps Master Jason fell asleep with the light on. It often happened with Master Richard when he was studying for exams.' Alfred slowly opened the door to peak his head inside. He threw the door open when what he discovered had him rushing into the room to confirm his suspicions. Jason's bed had not been disturbed since he turned down the blankets. His pajamas still lay on top, and Jason's backpack had been emptied of its contents on the floor in a haphazard manner. The backpack itself along with Jason's hooded jacket was gone.

Alfred moved as quickly as his body would carry him down the stairs and into the study. He picked up the house phone and dialed the special unlisted number for the bat cave.

"Alfred, what is it?" Dick answered. He had not used that phone in ages, but he knew that something was wrong upstairs.

"It's Master Jason, he's gone."

"WHAT?"

"Earlier this evening I found him in the small alcove off the stairs leading to the bat cave, the alcove that you often liked to hide in to surprise Master Bruce."

"I know it."

"After dinner, Master Jason said he was going to his room, but . . ."

"DAMN! . . . Sorry Alfred," Dick's eyes fell on the glass case that held his original Robin uniform. 'He's gone after Bruce. He must have been listening to our conversation.' Dick looked at the time. It was 10:30 pm. 'He could have as much as a three hour head start if he'd gone on foot.' Then he remembered the small motorcycle that Bruce built for him when he turned 13. "Hold on Alfred . . ." Dick went to the garage area of the cave and knew that Jason found another way, a faster way to Newtown. "Alfred, get down here. If Bruce calls, tell him what happened. I'm going after Jason."

Dick went to the uniform vault and found his new Nightwing gear. Alfred not only made him a new one, he improved a bit on the design using stronger but lighter materials, fitting for an acrobat that needed to move. Once changed, Nightwing climbed onto his motorcycle and sped out of the cave and into the night.

Continues with Part 17 – Drugs and Guns and Murder


	17. Drugs and Guns and Murder

Between Father's and Sons

By

AJ

Part 17 – Drugs and Guns and Murder

Matches Malone drove to the address he was given. It was nearly 9:00 pm. The house, a lavish looking affair, was actually situated in the middle of the poorest neighborhood in Newtown and also the quietest. It was situated in the middle of Poplar Cemetery. Poplar Cemetery was for those people who could not afford the funeral expenses that would allow them the comfort offered to the families of the deceased. Most were buried in pine boxes or their ashes were scattered in a nearby field. The marker that told who it was that lay arrest, a simple plaque with a name and date, was all there was, nothing more.

Malone had to give a smirk at seeing the irony of the situation. It was as if this Mr. Zee was living and standing on the bodies his drug victims that had been put into the ground.

'And he wants to sell his brand of ecstasy to the people of Gotham. I don't think so,' Bruce had to remember whom he was supposed to be and once again put on the crocodile grin-like mask and put on a convincing show. He had to confirm what he suspected and he needed evidence to back it up. Pressing the record button on the side of his watch, Matches Malone drove up to the door and parked the car.

Matches knocked on the ornate oak doors and a butler answered, though Matches other identity swore he had seen the man's face somewhere else, like in a police line up. To pretend to be a butler was ironic.

'Alfred would be appalled," Bruce thought.

"May I say who is calling?" the butler asked.

'At least he's got the lingo down if not the accent.'

"Matches Malone," Bruce answered, adding the accent he developed for the intrepid hood.

"This way, Mr. Zee is expecting you."

Alarm bells started going off in Bruce's head. Something didn't feel right. Suddenly, there were several guns pointed at his head.

"Hey, what gives?"

"You say you're Matches Malone?" Someone in shadow questioned.

"Yeah, that's me."

A small figure was thrown at his feet, a boy wearing a hood.

"This kid claims to be related to you," the figure in shadow stated. "Says he's your son. Started snooping around."

The kid lifted his head toward Matches. He recognized the kid all too well. How did Jason follow him? He must have overheard their conversation.

"Yeah, he's related to me," Matches stated though it was a lie. Jason's life depended on it. Bruce gave Jason a deep frown and hoped he would pick up on what he was trying to convey. 'Play along or you're going to be in deeper trouble than you are now.' Matches waited for one more second then stated, "What are you doing here kid? You're supposed to be with your brother."

"I . . . I . . . I wanted to help." Jason stuttered. 'Brother? What was Bruce talking about I don't have a brother.'

"Did Alfie send you to spy on me?"

"N. . . no," Jason answered. "I . . . snuck out," which was the truth.

"Obviously," Matches stated. "I told you . . . I don't want you involved. You should have listened to Alfie."

Jason's eyes became wide as the words that Bruce was trying to convey finally sunk in. He was in deep trouble and he was in way over his head.

"Who's Alfie?"

"His older brother," Matches stated. "I'm their Uncle."

"Kid said you were his father," the man in the shadows stated.

Bruce could help feel a sense of pride at that. Did Jason really think of him as a father figure? 'Kids' been living with me since their father died." Bruce couldn't help tell a little of the truth here. Alfred wouldn't mind, and he did come to live with them after his father had died. As for Jason, he lived at the Manor part time so there was a grain of truth. And his father was dead.

"You know, that's a real touching story," the man said in the shadows. "I might believe the kid, but I don't believe you. Nothing gets by me in this town. I own it, just like my brother did, and I'll keep owning it."

Matches' eyes narrowed.

"You see, I heard Matches Malone bought the farm in Europe. And I happen to know from reading his police record that Matches doesn't have any family. I always check out all of my drivers before I hire them, and you Matches, you don't have much of a background. You don't seem to have existed before your police record either. No one knows you in prison. No birth certificate, no social security card . . ."

'That voice, sounds familiar,' thought Bruce. 'I can't blame Jason for this. This guy did his homework.'

"So, I don't know who you are," the man in the shadows leaned forward, pulling out a large caliber pistol. "You and your little friend are going for a ride. Tie them up boys. We're taking them down to the docks to Warehouse 34. We're going to give you a chance to tell us who you really are. And if you don't cooperate, I'm going to be testing our latest product on you two."

Bruce finally got a good look at the man. Sure enough, it was Ralph Zucco, Tony Zucco's brother. He should have remembered that Ralphie was more thorough than his older brother. After all, he had kidnapped Dick when his former ward had been living at the Manor for only a year. Bruce suddenly lunged at the nearest thug, giving Jason an opening.

"RUN!" Bruce yelled at Jason, who immediately kicked out and jumped to his feet. Jason knocked down the closest thug. He ran for the nearest exit, but it was blocked by two other men. Looking around, Jason saw his only option. Covering his face, Jason crashed through a plate glass window.

"NO GUNS!" Zucco shouted. "We'll pick up the kid outside. He won't get very far."

Four men grabbed Bruce's arms trying to bring him down. One grabbed him from behind.

"This guy is strong! I'd swear he's like Batman!"

"That's it, that's who he is. Well, well. Batman as I live and breath," Zucco stated. "You sent me up the river for trying to kill the remaining Flying Grayson. Looks like I get to return the favor. Like I said, take him to Warehouse 34."

Someone struck Bruce from behind and he crumpled to the floor.

/

Jason stayed a little while longer just outside and to the right of the window he crashed through and in the deepest shadow he could find. He listened in to learn what it was they were going to do with Bruce.

'They know he's Batman,' Jason said with despair. 'Oh man, why did I disobey? Now I've gotten Bruce in a lot of trouble.' Jason sat up against the wall trying to think. The darken cemetery that lay before him didn't give him any place to hide. He had to find a way to either get help or follow them, but he wasn't ready for this, and he should have realized it. He hadn't faced something like this before.

Jason opened his backpack and stared at the Robin uniform. Did he dare go after them? He may be Bruce's only hope. Jason made a decision and pulled out the mask. Within moments, he was dressed and ready for action. It was odd, now that he was wearing the mask it helped to give him a sense of courage and confidence. As quickly as he dared, "Robin" moved to where he could observe the men as they dragged the unconscious "Matches Malone" into the back of a truck. Once they closed the doors, Robin made his move. He took a running leap and managed to grab ahold of the back edge and climbed on top. He flattened himself to keep from being seen. He just hoped that they didn't take any fast curves or go under any bridges where the clearance was barely high enough so the truck could pass through. If only he had a way of contacting Dick back at the cave. All he could do was hang on for dear life.

/

Nightwing got to Newtown as Matches Malone was entering the cemetery and heading to Ralph Zucco's home. He headed to the address that Bruce told him where they were supposed to meet. He found it easily enough, parking his bike off the street in another nearby alley. He shot his line and climbed to the top of one of the buildings that framed the Bed and Breakfast. Quickly moving across the roof, he used his momentum to jump onto the pitched roof of the old house. Bruce said his room was in the back, and it was the only one with a bathroom. Nightwing made his way to the back. He found a place where he could climb down and peek inside the room. He spied something that he knew wasn't what you would normally find in any hotel, let alone a bed and breakfast. The device was designed to mask sound as well as interfere with the signal from any bugging device. There was also a laptop sitting on the small café style table.

Nightwing examined the window and found it was just like the windows from his old boarding house in New Carthage. They were sash windows with an old fashion locking mechanism. While examining the window, he discovered it wasn't locked. NIghtwing lifted up the lower sash and climbed inside. With his night vision lenses, he examined the room itself. Bruce's bed had not been slept in yet. He also found on the dresser a card with an address. It was a start.

'Bruce must have headed there. That will be my next stop. I just hope Jason hasn't run into any more trouble. I haven't found him yet. Who am I kidding. I bet he's in the thick of it. And boy is Bruce going to be pissed.'

Climbing back out the window and shutting it, Nightwing made his way back to where his motorcycle was parked. As he approached the ally, he heard voices.

"Look at this guys. That's one sweet ride."

"Yeah, some poor sap left it parked here."

"Maybe we should teach him the error of his ways."

"And maybe I should teach you not to steal someone else's property, let alone mine."

Nightwing jumped down with his escrima sticks drawn.

"And who are you supposed to be," one of the two men sneered.

"I'm Nightwing."

"Night who?"

"I'd rather not repeat myself. If you don't want me to teach you a lesson, then you better step away from MY bike."

"This is yours?"

Nighwing nodded then gave the two men a crocodile grin.

"Hey we found it," the other said. "I don't see any ID. And finders keepers."

"Looks like we're going to have to do this the hard way. And I don't have the time to teach you two properly. So, lesson number one . . ."

Nightwing leapt into the air and flipped over the two men, bringing both escrima sticks down across the back of the two men's heads. Both fell back against the wall dazed. "Never touch someone else's ride, especially mine."

Nightwing climbed onto the bike, placed the helmet on his head then started it up by pressing a button hidden on one of the handlebars. He turned toward the two men who looked at him. "Told you this was my bike." Then sped into the night to his next destination.

Continues with Part 18 – Matches' Malone's Worst Nightmare


	18. Matches Malone's Worst Nightmare

Between Father's and Sons

By

AJ

Part 18– Matches' Malone's Worst Nightmare

Bruce woke up to the sound of voices, actually one voice, except at first he didn't remember his name was Bruce. For a moment he believed he was Matches Malone, arsonist extraordinaire and playing with fire was his game. Right now, he was confused and in the hands of someone he thought was dead.

"It's about time you've joined us. I wouldn't want you to miss a moment of your death."

"Zucco? I . . . I thought you were dead."

"I am dead, and this is your worst nightmare."

"I swear Zucco, I never said a word."

Ralph Zucco was curious as to what this guy was talking about. He gave the man a curious look, like he wasn't sure if the man was bluffing. So he played a hunch. "This is your waterloo Batman,"

"Batman . . . What are you talking about? I'm Matches, Matches Malone."

"You still claiming to be that guy?"

"Claiming, I am Matches."

"On paper maybe, but in real life . . . I don't think so."

Matches struggled against the bonds that held him to the chair. In truth, Bruce, even Batman could have easily broken them, but as Matches, he was just as weak as any other thug. "Why'd you call me Batman?"

"Because that's who you really are."

"You're crazy," Matches retorted. "I'm not Batman and I can prove it."

"So, prove it."

Matches looked around but with his arms tied he couldn't get to his signature tools that easily. "I need my hands free."

"And have you suddenly jump me and my men? What do you take me for a fool? I don't think so," Zucco shook his head.

"What are you going to do?" Fear started to engulf Matches and yet something deep down told him to continue talking to get information and to keep fighting. "Where are we?"

"One of my warehouses. And I don't mind telling you since you won't escape. The other lab is across town not far from Robinson Cemetery. And if I ever get the chance, I'll fill it with one more body, the last of the Flying Graysons. He'll be buried up to his neck next to his parents after what he did to my brother. And you won't be able to stop me."

That wasn't the information that Malone was expecting and yet Zucco did reveal where his second lab was and his plans for the murder of someone he wasn't sure whether he knew. While he was trying to figure out his next move, Malone wasn't aware that someone moved behind him.

'Hold his head," Zucco approached with a small vial of blue liquid.

Malone struggled as someone grabbed his head and forced his jaw open. As the liquid was dropped slowly into his mouth, Matches tried to spit it out.

"One drop of heavenly brew gives you the most exquisite hallucinations you will ever experience. However, the more you put on your tongue the more the hallucinations become real. The drug reveals what you fear the most until finally they become your worst nightmares. So, maybe you should be asking yourself what are you afraid of."

Ralph Zucco didn't put one drop on Matches Malone's tongue. He didn't even put three. Ralph Zucco put more than that. He put the whole dram.

"Enjoy your trip, Matches . . . Batman . . . or whoever you are. It will be your last."

"You're not going anywhere!" A voice said from above in the shadows.

Robin pulled something from his utility belt and tossed it down to the floor. The small round object burst open and a cloud of smoke rose up and around the men. They all started coughing and stumbling around.

"Let's get out of here! It's Batman's pal."

"Let him try to save his friend. He'll get quite a surprise when he does."

Robin dropped down from the ceiling and untied the prisoner. He kept his eyes on Bruce and let the thugs go.

"Don't worry, I'm getting you out of here."

Robin though wasn't aware of the struggle that was going on in Bruce's mind. Suddenly Robin was grabbed and slammed up against the wall. He was left shaken. Hands lifted him in the air and tried to choke the life out of him.

"Bruce, no!" Robin pleaded as he barely choked out the words.

Bruce's eyes were filled with hatred so deep neither Dick or Jason would have believed Bruce capable of such malice. "YOU KILLED MY PARENTS! I'll squeeze the life out of you!"

'He thinks . . . I killed . . .' Darkness swam around the edges of Robin's vision as life-giving air was being slowly cut off. 'No . . . Must fight." Robin reached into his belt and pulled out another smoke pellet. He broke the pellet right into Bruce's face. It was enough where the enraged man released his grip. Robin dropped to the floor rubbing his neck and sucked in as much air as he could and tried to dodge out of the way as Bruce once again went on the rampage.

'What did they give him?' Robin asked. He remembered Dick mentioning some kind of blue tinted drug and about getting a sample. He spied the blue vials resting on the counter and grabbed three. He placed them securely in his utility belt.

"Augh!" Bruce roared out his rage. He grabbed the chair and tossed it into the apparatus. The volatile chemicals exploded and started a raging fire.

"We've got to get out of here!" Robin screamed above the flames.

"I'd rather die!" Bruce cried, tears streaming down his face.

"I won't let you!" Robin said, and striking Bruce across the face with both his fists. It took all of his effort but he was able to cause the man to collapse. Grabbing him by the shoulders of his jacket, Robin tried to drag Bruce away from the fire and out of the warehouse. The smoke started to burn his lungs and he feared he wouldn't make it. He kept pulling on the shoulders of Bruce's jacket until he collapsed to his knees coughing. Then he heard a CRASH and the sound of falling glass. Robin looked up to see a dark figure falling toward the floor and landing safely.

"NIGHTWING!"

Nightwing spun around to see Robin trying to drag an unconscious man.

"It's Bruce . . . cough, cough we have to . . . cough, cough get him out of here!"

The flames roared higher. "Aaaaaaaa!" Robin screamed as terror started to grip him.

Nightwing dashed forward and lifted his former mentor onto his shoulders. He shot a grappling hook up to the roof. After making certain that Bruce was secure and out of harms way in the far corner of the roof, he dropped down and grabbed Robin.

"My bike can't carry us all. Where's the Robin cycle?" Nightwing asked.

"cough, cough I'm not sure," Robin responded his voice hoarse from the smoke. "I was jumped from behind, blindfolded and gagged. Then they took me to Ralph Zucco."

"Zucco are you sure?"

"Yes, he got away in the smoke."

"Don't worry, we'll catch him. We have to take care of Bruce."

"Nightwing, you've got to know this. Bruce was acting crazy. He . . . He thought I killed his parents and then he . . ."

Nightwing looked over at his father.

"They gave him some drug. I was too late to stop them."

"What kind of drug?" NIghtwing's stomach dropped like a stone.

"This blue stuff," Robin showed Nightwing the vials of blue liquid.

"That's the drug they've been selling. We don't have much time. We've got to get off this roof. Then we have to get Bruce back to the place he was staying. Do you know how much they gave him?"

"No . . ." Robin shook his head.

"No matter," Nightwing took out a small device and pressed a button. "Make sure you're out of sight. The fire department and the police should be here any minute."

Nightwing shouldered his unconscious mentor and jumped to the ground using his grappling hook. Robin followed climbing down from a drainpipe. Within moments the Robin Cycle drove up by itself.

"What? How?"

"Watch and learn Little Wing," Nightwing stated. "Batman equipped each vehicle with a remote control, with the exception of mine. I did that myself."

Nightwing positioned Bruce in the front between the handlebars to keep him safe. He sped off into the night with Robin not far behind him. They reached the Bed and Breakfast just as dawn was approaching. Nightwing flipped up a panel on his bike and punched in a code.

"What's that?"

"I'm summoning help."

"Alfred?" Robin's voice suddenly brightened.

"Not that kind of help. My mobile crime lab. I better get Bruce inside."

Nightwing carried Bruce up the back stairs remembering the room number. They saw no one, but could hear someone softly singing in the kitchen. Fishing through Bruce's pockets, he found the key and opened the door. Nightwing placed Bruce on the bed. He noticed beads of sweat forming on his father's forehead.

"What do you know about this drug?" Robin asked.

"Allot. For one thing, it doesn't take much to be a lethal dose. I don't know if this is going to work." Nightwing pulled out of his utility belt a small plastic bag. Contained inside was a white tablet. He placed the tablet in Bruce's mouth. "Hopefully, it should buy him some time."

"What is that?"

"Universal drug antidote," Nightwing stated. "You should know that. Give me those vials. Keep an eye on him."

Nightwing climbed out of the window and down to the parking area behind the Bed and Breakfast.

"Where are you going?" Robin was surprised to see a VW Bus parked out back. Was that the help that Nightwing had summoned. He watched as NIghtwing opened the back of the vehicle and was surprised at the equipment found in such a small space. Robin watched Nightwing pour some of the liquid onto a tray then inserted it into a slot and then pressed a few buttons on a panel. How did he know which ones to press? There wasn't even a proper screen or keyboard. It looked ancient compared to what was in the bat-cave.

"It will take three hours to analyze this liquid and come up with an antidote. You go and sit with Bruce."

Robin poked his head back through the window. Nervousness overtook him when he saw that Bruce was tossing and turning then mumbling in his sleep.

"No . . . Dick . . . I'm sorry . . . Don't go. Robin . . . I'm sorry."

Robin moved over to the bed. He hadn't seen Bruce this distraught. He could hear him mumbling things about Dick and then he called out to Robin, but Dick was Nightwing, not Robin. What could be going through Bruce's mind? Robin looked up to see Nightwing standing by Bruce's bed. He hadn't heard him enter the room. Robin observed Nightwing place a hand on his mentor's shoulder then removed one of his gloves.

"His temperature is up. His body is trying to fight off the drug."

"Will he be all right?"

"I don't know Little Wing," Nightwing stated. "We can only wait and pray that the antidote is ready in time."

Continues with Part 19 – Fighting For Life


	19. Fighting For Life

Between Father's and Sons

By

AJ

Part 19 – Fighting For Life

Several pairs of eyes watched as two figures sped into the night, one carrying their former victim.

"Follow them, discretely I don't even want them getting wind that we're following them."

The explosion nearly knocked them off there feet and Zucco could hear the sound of sirens in the background. The fire was spreading and Zucco didn't want to be there when the police and fire department got there. 'He'll pay for that.' Zucco and his men entered a nearby car that was parked on the same side of the building as Nightwing's cycle.

"Do you want us to take care of them?"

"No. I want you to go to our other lab and clear it out. Move it to Bludhaven. There has to be no trace of its existence. When we get to where they are going, drop me off."

"What will you be doing?"

"Checking up on a rodent problem." Zucco had this feeling if he allowed Matches to escape, he would be back, as the Batman and he couldn't allow that. Though he gave him a full dram of his heavenly brew, when it came to the Batman, that didn't necessarily mean a death warrant. He had to be certain that Batman died. And once he was dead, he could take care of the other two, permanently. Then there would be no one to stop him from finding the Grayson kid.

/

Within the three hours that it took to analyze the drug, Bruce was fighting for his life. Within his mind it felt like an eternity. Images of his parents being shot by Joe Chill played over and over. He saw his father fall and he heard his mother's screams then they were suddenly cut off. He felt no fear but the rage was manifested ten fold. It was that rage that kept him from falling into the darkness and the abyss.

Other images also flashed in his mind, images that fueled the rage and the need for justice. He witnessed the deaths of John and Mary Grayson and the same rage that filled him had filled their son. It was that boy though who kept him from falling into despair due to what was turning into a fruitless battle, a war against crime that threatened to engulf Gotham City and its humanity. The boy had an inner light that seemed to dispel the darkness, but soon that light was no longer shining just for him. He felt another kind of rage within him, the rage of jealousy. It threatened to swallow the light completely until he threw that light away.

Once again darkness loomed until that darkness found a kindred spirit. This spirit had more shades of gray. And though he tried to fan the flames to brighten the spirit, so far that spirit would not come into the light so easily. Then a moment of clarity and Bruce saw the gray spirit engulfed with red, swallowed up. The image was so horrendous that Bruce cried out. "NO!" Then the red was fading into the blackness and the images slowly receded becoming a distant memory. Then the light he thought was lost was warming him once again.

Bruce felt a warm hand on his forehead then it brushed away his wet hair. He heard the beloved voice as if it came from a tunnel and he was drawn to it.

"The antidote is working. His fever has broken. You better get home before he wakes. He finds you here, he'll be pissed and I don't know if I'll be able to talk him out of breaking your neck."

Robin nodded.

"Better put that back before he discovers it's missing," Nightwing indicated the uniform.

"Uhm Nightwing," Robin began. "Thanks for coming after me."

Nightwing watched Robin climb out the window. He heard the familiar sound of the Robin Cycle heading away from the Bed and Breakfast. He shook his head. That kid still had a lot to learn.

After another fifteen minutes, Matches Malone aka Bruce Wayne finally came to.

"Ohhhh! I feel like death warmed over."

"You nearly were. Drugs and getting caught in a fire will do that to a person."

Bruce's eyes opened and he turned to see his son sitting in a chair beside his bed. "NIghtwing?"

"The one and only," Nightwing quipped, but the humor fell a little flat. He frowned at the man lying on the bed. "When were you going to tell me that it was Zucco?"

'Heard the rumors when I got here. Needed to get proof." Bruce tried to rise then fell back. "I smell like a barbeque."

'You were almost barbeque. You can get a shower afterward," Nightwing stated.

"How did you know I was in trouble?"

"I followed a little bird."

"Jason," Bruce surmised. "Where is he?"

"I sent him home," Nightwing answered. "He doesn't deserve a lecture right now."

"We need to go after Zucco."

"I'll go after Zucco," Nightwing countered. "This is my case. And you are in no shape to do anything."

Bruce pulled off his watch. "Voice recordings. Laptop's over on the table."

Nightwing took Bruce's watch, pulled out the miniature USB and plugged it into the special port.

Once again Bruce tried to sit up, this time succeeding. "With the way I'm feeling I take it you found the antidote."

'You'd be dead if I hadn't,' Nightwing commented. 'Though he looked like he was putting up a pretty good fight.' Then he switched to less emotional topics. "Once the drug was analyzed the antidote was pretty simple. It won't be hard to add the matrix to the universal drug antidote."

"Good," Bruce's eyes narrowed. "You still mad at me?" Bruce was aware that Nightwing kept his voice as neutral as possible during their whole conversation. It was a switch from their usual exchanges.

"Haven't decided."

"Look there wasn't time to inform you. And I made a big mistake."

Nightwing kept his back toward Bruce. "You a mistake? Not likely."

"I should not have gone in as Matches," Bruce sighed. "Ralph Zucco knew about his death in Europe. We would have had him if I hadn't made that mistake and if Jason hadn't nearly blown my cover."

"If Jason hadn't, you'd be dead."

"What?"

"Do you remember what happened?"

"Not all of it," Bruce admitted. "I do remember Jason escaping. And I vaguely remembered being given that drug."

"He followed you to the warehouse. If he hadn't you would be dead from an overdose of that drug." Nightwing stated, but neglected to mention Jason had been dressed as Robin and Bruce had nearly killed him.

"Then I owe him my life."

"Partially," NIghtwing stated. "While you were drugged, you went on a rampage, set the place on fire. That's when I came in. Both of you could have died."

"Then I owe you one as well."

"That's not necessary," Nightwing stated, though he continued to keep his back turned not wanting Bruce to see his eyes were beginning to sting. "I better go after Zucco. I left a make-up kit . . ."

"Dick," Bruce said, this time halting Nightwing's exit. "Talk to me."

He hadn't hid anything from Bruce, even with his back turned. 'I could never hide what I'm feeling from him. Keeping secrets, still keeping secrets,' Dick thought. 'I . . . I have to go after Zucco. I'll retrieve your car."

And with that Nightwing was gone.

Bruce walked to the open window and placed his hand on the wooden frame. He gazed out the window trying to see where his son had gone, but he was just as swift as his namesake. His son saved both their lives, but something was still bothering him. He made some big mistakes this time, going in as Matches Malone without checking into whether the underworld had known that Matches was "dead." Zucco will more likely spread the word that Matches was really Batman. So the fate of Matches was truly in his hands. 'Very well, let Matches die. Probably for the best.'

He still could not get the nagging feeling that he somehow let his son down. Dick was supposed to be the forerunner on this case. 'It WAS his case, and I ended up taking it from him, though I let him think it was his idea.' Bruce conceded. 'He's still not quite 100%. He's still dealing with the blood loss. He won't say it . . . He's much like me in that respect. And the words from the Hagakure came to him. 'He certainly does resemble me, but is that what I want? He's lost something and I'm not sure it's all that good. A piece of himself is missing and I'm not sure how to fix it.'

Bruce went into the bathroom to shower. He could smell the smoke coming off him and he thought it best that no one else did. At least he brought extra clothes in his suitcase. Bruce looked into the mirror and realized why Nightwing had given him that comment. The putty that he used to reshape part of his face was slowing eroding. It made him look like another of his archenemies. If Candice saw him at that moment, she probably would scream bloody murder and declare that Two-Face had come to town. Bruce peeled off the remaining putty and climbed in the shower. He felt much better then went to work on reconstructing Matches Malone. He had to leave this place in the guise that he came in. He never heard the door to his room open.

After Bruce was done putting the finishing touches on his face and cleaning up the make-up kit, he looked up in the mirror to see the bathroom door slowly opening and a hand with a knife appeared. With the sudden reflexes born of years of training, Bruce slammed the door shut on the would-be assailant's arm and the knife clattered to the floor.

"AUGH!"

The assailant rushed the door in an attempt to trap Bruce in the bathroom. Bruce grabbed the shower curtain and threw it over the assassin's head, preventing him from seeing where he was going. Bruce shoved the man aside and into the shower stall, attempting to knock out the guy.

At that moment, NIghtwing came crashing through the window. The assailant at that moment freed himself from the entangled shower curtain and rushed back into the room, branding the knife. This time Nightwing was between Bruce and the assailant.

"ZUCCO!"

"You're not Batman's playmate."

"I grew up," Nightwing replied.

"I'll kill you both."

"Typical," Nightwing replied. "If it's not a gun, it's a knife. No imagination."

Zucco charged slashing at empty air. NIghtwing leapt then kicked out catching Zucco on the chin. Bruce worked his way around and grabbed the sound-masking device on the borough and brought it down on Zucco's head. The ex-mob boss crumpled to the floor.

"He must have followed us from the warehouse and waited for Robin and I to leave."

"When the drug didn't kill me he thought he would finish me off the old fashion way."

"Well he'll be wearing old fashion prison stripes. Looks like you'll have to be Matches Malone for a little while longer."

Bruce gave NIghtwing a puzzled look.

"You'll need to make a statement."

Nightwing suddenly collapsed without warning.

"Whoa take it easy," Bruce grabbed his son by the waist.

"I . . . I should get back to the cave."

"Are you sure you can make it? You're exhausted. You must be running on pure adrenaline."

"I'll sleep when I get back," Nightwing shook off the weariness that suddenly crept in then tossed Bruce a zip tie. "Here make sure he doesn't go anywhere."

Sure," Bruce did as Nightwing suggested. "But before I call the police, Ralph Zucco and I are going to have a little chat."

As Nightwing started to leave again, he saw the look in Bruce's eyes and he almost felt sorry for Zucco . . . Almost.

Continues with the Epilogue – Celebrating 20 Years


	20. Celebrating 20 Years

Between Father's and Sons

By

AJ

Part Epilogue – Celebrating 20 Years

Nightwing woke in the medical bay. His back was to the stairs and his body was a mass of soreness. Memories of what happened flooded into him like a hurricane and they threatened to overwhelm his senses.

'That's the last time I go crashing through a window for a while.'

Images of his parents came to him, but they weren't the usual nightmare images that plagued him since their deaths. They were ones where his parents were smiling and happy, even showing pride. It was as if they were telling him they were finally at peace. Nightwing removed his mask and became Dick Grayson once again. Despite the images tears threatened to overwhelm him. Though these were tears of sadness, this time, they weren't colored with rage. They were tears of true grief, mourning their loss where healing could begin.

'I don't know why I'm dreaming about this. Ralph Zucco wasn't involved . . . Or was he? Or maybe because he reminded me of his brother it just brought everything back to me. And the way things have been with Bruce . . . I miss them so much.' Dick couldn't stifle a sniffle as he thought of his former guardian now father. 'I don't know why I'm angry with him. It's . . . it's just stupid. I think I'm angry with myself more for not taking control. I should have been the one to investigate then maybe Bruce wouldn't have gotten hurt. I always seem to fall back to being the junior partner, but . . . Is that really bad? To be honest I miss . . . And now today . . . '

Dick thought about when he returned to the Manor after taking down Ralph Zucco, he suddenly remembered what day it was, but he didn't have the heart to think about it then.

'He probably forgot about it, just like I almost did. I guess it doesn't matter. It's just one more day on the calendar. All I want right now is a place to sleep.'

When he entered the cave, Alfred was waiting for him, and he insisted that he check Dick for any new injuries and to see about his more recent ones that had just healed. Dick didn't remember much of the examination since he had fallen asleep in the middle of it. He was still thinking about it when a slight noise caused Dick to turn around. Bruce was standing near the exam table giving him a slight smile, more like a conspiring one that puzzled the former boy wonder.

'He must have returned some time after I fell asleep and after Zucco was taken care of.' Dick thought. 'I wonder what they TALKED about. Then again . . . maybe I don't. I wonder how long he's been standing there.' Still the smile that Bruce had on his face did get him curious. Bruce usually didn't smile all that much.

"Well, it's about time that you woke up," Bruce said. "We were beginning to think you were going to sleep through it and we would have to extend it to the weekend like we did before."

"Extend what?" Dick asked as he rose from the gurney and wiped the tears stains from his face before Bruce had an opportunity to question him about them. Luckily it was a little dim in the medical bay. 'Alfred must have dimmed the lights when I fell asleep.'

Bruce held out a small gift wrapped in colorful red and yellow paper and tied with a green bow. "Happy Birthday, son."

"My birthday?' Dick was truly surprised. "In all the excitement I almost forgot." His eyes grew wide for a moment. 'I thought he forgot.'

"I wanted to give this to you last year, but, I guess it just wasn't the right time."

"What time is it anyway?"

"Don't worry, you still have a several hours left before the date changes," Bruce stated. "Everyone is waiting for you."

"Everyone? How . . ."

"You know Alfred. He probably started planning this when you returned to the Manor," Bruce didn't go into detail. They both knew what Bruce meant, the day Dick ended up on Batman's doorstep from a gunshot wound. "It hasn't really been that long. You better get changed. They're waiting upstairs."

"Give me an hour or three," Dick quipped as he slowly moved off the examination table.

"A good hot shower will work a lot of the soreness out of the muscles. You'll be able to soak in a warm tub later. After all, you're still recovering from the blood loss and everything else. I'm sure you needed the sleep."

"Thanks . . . Dad," Dick replied.

"I'll take this upstairs and place it with the rest of your gifts. Don't take too long."

Within 30 minutes it was Dick Grayson who walked into the formal dining room of the Wayne Manor, the room having been transformed into a park-like setting with picnic tables, lots of plants and small trees, and even several large blankets covering the wooden floor. One table was laden with gifts while two others were covered in simple picnic fair in buffet style. Though the light of the day was fading, the sunset in the background gave the room a look of burnished gold and looking like an old fashion conservatory from another time. Images of another birthday similar to this one came to mind. It had been one of the best birthdays he remembered . . . except for one fact.

'They weren't here and I was just Bruce's ward then,' he thought. 'I wonder if Bruce arranged for an elephant ride,' Dick quipped to himself. 'Probably not. Guess I'm too old for that sort of thing anyway.' Dick noticed a familiar figure standing by the buffet table. "Wally?" Dick was surprised to see his old friend after what happened at the Watch Tower.

"Hey bro," Wally stated, shuffling his feet a little on the fast side. He had to restrain himself. "Look, I'm really sorry about what happened. Cyborg didn't have any right to say the things that he did. And now . . ."

"What happened?"

"After you left, everything fell apart. And well, you know me I tried to keep things together. "

"You sided with Cyborg," Dick reminded him.

"I know, I'm sorry. I was wrong. Speedy is calling himself Red Arrow now. He left two weeks after you did. They had no right to kick you out."

"They kicked you out too?" Dick surmised.

"How did you . . ."

"It's not hard to figure out. It's the TEEN Titans anyway. You and I and even Roy are just too old for that sort of thing."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Roy is here, by the way as well as Dana."

"Hey, Birthday Boy, you better stop gabbing with Wally and come greet your other guests."

"Sure Bruce," Dick replied.

Dick greeted his old friends, Dana and Roy, along with Clark, Diana, Barry, and this time J'onn, and Oliver Queen. Leslie Tompkins wasn't available, but she sent her regards. Alfred's food was just as good as he remembered on that last big birthday, but maybe just a little more sweeter, because he was once again celebrating it with family and friends. His birthday last year had come and gone without so much as a slice of cake. He spent it lying in bed with the covers over his head and sobbing his eyes out. It took all of his effort just to get out of bed and face the world.

'I would rather not recall that day. It was one of the worst.'

Dick turned his head trying to shake off the memories when he saw Jason standing up against the far wall near the doorway. He also looked a little gloomy. Dick went over to see what was bothering him.

"So, baby bird, what's up?"

"Baby Bird yourself, I'm not a baby," Jason replied bitterly.

"I didn't imply that you were. So tell me what's bothering you.

"Bruce grounded me, told me that I couldn't train for two weeks. When am I ever going to be Robin officially?"

"Don't worry, you are going to be Robin someday. You're just not ready for it yet. I had to save your butt back there, and you're lucky Bruce doesn't fully remember what happened. He probably would have grounded you for the rest of your life."

"He's not my father," Jason retorted.

"Look, when I was your age, Bruce became my guardian. My parents were killed, murdered in fact. I had no one. Bruce took me in and now he is my father. I don't know what arrangement you have with Bruce, but I do know he is a fair man. He only does what he feels is right. And if you don't tell him, I'm going to have to tell him, and it won't go down easy. He'd rather you come to him and tell him the truth. If he has to come to you, believe me, it will be a lot worse. If he's grounded you for two weeks, consider yourself lucky."

"You never seemed to do anything wrong," Jason stated.

"Don't read me wrong Jason," Dick pointed out. "I did plenty wrong. I made mistakes, and I had my days where I couldn't go out on patrol. I had to face the consequences of my actions. You're going to have to do the same." Dick placed his hands on Jason's shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "Look, it's my birthday, and I don't want any gloomy faces. How about you help me open my gifts. With this pile it could take me the rest of the night."

"Okay," Jason said as Dick pulled him away from the wall and drew him more into the room.

Bruce approached and asked, "Is everything all right?"

"Jason, why don't you get me my first gift."

"Sure."

Dick turned toward Bruce. "You know what happened last night." It was a statement rather than a question.

"Yes, I know. Jason disobeyed orders. He also stole the Robin uniform and the Robin cycle. I remembered."

"Don't be too harsh on him Bruce. He's got a lot to learn. He did do one thing right. He saved your life. He also grabbed the drug samples. And we now have the means to counter act that drug if it ever shows up in Gotham again."

"You're right," Bruce stated. "He's just too impatient though. I don't know how to quell that."

"You'll find a way. You did with me," Dick gave Bruce a sideways smile that said a lot. A smile that was just for him.

"Oh, I saved this one for you. I want you to open it last and after everyone has gone home."

"Sure."

"Come on, Golden Boy. Everyone is waiting for you to open your presents."

Bruce winced at the nickname. "You going to allow him to call you that?"

"Don't worry, I have a few up my sleeve," Dick winked.

Dick allowed Jason to pull him into the fray and set him down in the center of the circle. Jason brought each gift over and his eyes became just as wide as Dick's as each was revealed. After they were done, there was a pile of wrapping paper that surrounded Dick up to his waste.

"I believe it is time for the cake," Alfred announced.

"I think I need rescuing from this sudden paper snow drift," Dick quipped.

"Hey, let me help you," Bruce lent a hand as he pulled Dick from the drift. Each gift had been set aside so as not to be swallowed by the mountain of paper.

Dick watched in awe as Alfred wheeled in the cake. Once again, it was one of his masterpieces. It was a circus cake, but this time there were miniature animals, clowns, and circus performers all over the cake. The topper was an elephant that reminded him of Elinore.

"Aren't you a little old to be receiving what amounts to be a kid's cake?" Wally mentioned in Dick's ear.

"I like the circus," Dick countered back.

"You could fool me."

Alfred handed Dick the knife and this time Dick didn't have any qualms about cutting the cake. Once everyone was served, Bruce announced that they could bring their refreshments into the media room. Everyone sat down to watch "The Greatest Show on Earth," the best circus movie that was ever made. Dick got a little tearful from the trapeze scenes, but other than that, it was a wonderful birthday among family and friends.

Later when everyone had gone home, Bruce pulled out from his pocket the small gift he had shown Dick earlier then stated. "Follow me."

Dick followed Bruce back to the media room. Once there, Bruce handed Dick the small gift box. Dick opened the gift and his eyes narrowed at the jump drive that he saw nestled amongst the cotton cushioning.

"What's this?"

"Clark gave me one like this, it seems like a lifetime ago. I think it's now time that you should have your own copy." Bruce took the drive and placed it in the computer. He punched a few keys on the keyboard and the first video opened to display on the large screen.

"When I first watched these, it was down in the bat cave after you went to bed. I think its time we watch them together."

Dick's eyes grew wide and tears rimmed his eyes. His hands wanted to reach out, but he remembered at the last moment that they were just images on the screen. Their voices though came back to him clear as day and the years melted away.

"Mom . . . Dad," He turned toward Bruce. "I . . . I don't know what to say."

"I never got to watch you grow from a baby to the time you came to this house. Clark found these on line. And for that, I can never repay him. I have very little images like these of my parents. The whole world has seen you . . . I thought it was time we see these together."

Dick grasped Bruce by the waist just as he had done as a boy, but kept his eyes on the screen. He felt Bruce's strong arm grasp him around his shoulders. And he heard Bruce say for the very first time, those three little words. Though they were barely audible, Dick knew what they were without having to ask a second time.

"I love you, son."

"I love you too, Dad"

"Happy Birthday, Dick. And welcome home."

End


End file.
